


Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Slytherin Edition)

by AliceFour46



Series: Harry Potter (Slytherin Edition) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Slytherin, Other, Slytherin, The Philosopher's Stone, if Harry was in Slytherin, the sorcerer's stone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21732004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceFour46/pseuds/AliceFour46
Summary: Harry Potter, book 1, written from the perspective of Harry if he was sorted into Slytherin house. It follows the original plot from Slytherin perspective.He finds himself part of the wizarding world, after being put down by muggles his whole life. Harry meets Draco Malfoy and Michael Munroe, who go on to be best friends and solve Hogwarts' mysteries together. Slytherin house has been shamed for centuries to be the house of evil and descrimination. Will Harry manage to redeem his house, or will he turn into a dark wizard, just like Voldemort had?
Series: Harry Potter (Slytherin Edition) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566304
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	1. The Diagon Alley

**Author's Note:**

> Some new characters have been added or swapped with other minor characters for plot convenience, and to make things a little more interesting.  
> Some scenes have been reused from the books, since they would remain the same even if Harry was part of Slytherin house, and some removed and summarised.  
> Harry being sorted into Slytherin would change several plot points and character arcs, so please keep that in mind when reading this fan-novel. Thank you.

Harry Potter was no ordinary boy. And he had only just found out about this last night. He lived his whole life, belittled, brought down and kicked around by his aunt and uncle, as well as his fat faced, snobby cousin, Dudley. So you could imagine his surprise when he found out that he was more than just a kid whose parents died in a car crash, whose whole life revolved around being nothing more than an insignificant punching bag. He was a wizard. 

“Yer a wizard, Harry,” those four magical words pronounced by an intimidating looking, but sweet, gigantic wizard named Hagrid, changed his life forever. 

That same half giant took him to Diagon Alley. It was like a whole other parallel reality. The street was filled with witches and wizards, in long pointy hats and differing coloured robes. He was able to spot a few other normal looking kids, like himself, being shown around by what he reckoned must have been wizard guides, just like the one Harry had right by his side. 

Diagon Alley was a place filled with magical shops. Harry couldn’t believe some of the things he saw through the windows. 

Another thing that Harry struggled to get his mind around, is the fact that he was famous here. He was recognised almost immediately by all sorts of witches and wizards. They all shook his hand, said things along the lines of “welcome back, Mr. Potter,” and bowed down till their noses were mere millimetres off the floor. 

This sudden significance, this attention, was certainly disorienting. And at the same time, Harry thought he may have actually enjoyed it. 

Hagrid took Harry to Gringotts, a wizarding bank that apparently had real life dragons, where he came face to face with a vault that belonged to him. A vault of gold, that he would inherit from his mother and father, who were part of the wizarding world, unlike his uncle and aunt. They would have been jealous if they knew how rich Harry was. Dudley would go pink and start yelling at his mother and father to put even more funds into his already well-invested bank account. 

Who was laughing now? 

After taking out enough Galleons to buy everything he needed for his first year of Hogwarts, a magical school that Harry would be going to this year, and a little more in case something was to happen, he and Hagrid went to a super secret vault. Hagrid refused to tell Harry what was in that vault, said it was of the utmost importance. But all that Harry could see, was a small looking, grubby brown package that Hagrid wasted no time putting into his coat pocket. 

Although the journey around Gringotts was terrifying; they would speed around the massive open space in carts, Harry was a little disappointed that he didn’t get to see the dragon. 

The first place they went after getting Harry’s gold, was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid. 

"Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here. Another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was reminded of Dudley, his spoiled, bratty cousin. Although, this boy hadn’t had that sort of… patheticness about him. Harry found himself impressed by his eliquency. 

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do, Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting. He had no idea what all these new terms meant. 

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He felt the need to look good in this boy’s eyes. He has been kind to him so far, despite having that air of superiority. He felt like an equal for once. The children at his school would avoid him because of Dudley. Or look down at him. He never had a single friend because of this. Harry didn’t want to miss out on this chance of making an actual friend. 

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage... lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry, with a small smile. “So what if he drinks now and again?”

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Well. I suppose it’s kind of amusing. Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into it right now. 

"Oh, sorry," said the other. Harry could tell he may not have meant it. But how could you truly be sorry if you don’t know what it’s like. "They were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." Harry mumbled. 

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

Harry was about to agree with him. He couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if Dudley ended up going to Hogwarts with him, but before he could reply, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, kind of wishing he could talk to his new friend longer, but also feeling kind of anxious and not knowing what to say, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

“See you at Hogwarts,” Harry smiled just a tinge, before running over to Hagrid to show him his new robes. 

* * *

The two of them ate their ice creams, before continuing their shopping. Harry got all of his books, a magical quill that could change colours as he wrote, cauldrons, scales and all sorts of ingredients he will need for potions.

But the best part about all of it was, was the owl that Hagrid bought for him, as a late birthday present. You were allowed to bring an owl, a cat or a toad to Hogwarts. And Hagrid reckoned owls were popular. 

Harry couldn’t find words to thank him. He never got a present anywhere near this amazing for his birthday before. Besides his Hogwarts letter, of course. They went to Eeylops Owl Emporium to get it, before heading to Ollivanders. 

Harry tried out several wands, before finally finding the right one for him. 

“Curious,” said Mr. Ollivander, the shopkeeper, who stared into Harry’s green eyes with an intensity that quite frankly, terrified him. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather; just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother… why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

* * *

As Harry and Hagrid walked back to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry finally decided to bring it up. 

“Hagrid? What’s… Slytherin and Hufflepuff?” 

Hagrid paused and looked down at Harry. “Already heard about the houses, eh? Well… Hogwarts is split into four houses. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. They sort you based off yer traits and all that.” 

“Oh… I hope I’m not sorted into Hufflepuff, then.” 

“There’s nothin’ wrong with being a Hufflepuff, Harry. Hardworking folk. Very loyal too.” 

Harry thought the word “Hufflepuff,” in itself, sounded kind of funny and unintimidating. Slytherin, on the other hand, seemed to draw him in more than he would like to admit. It sounded more ominous and dark, and yet Harry found himself relating to it without even knowing what it was. 

“And how about Slytherin?” Harry finally asked. Hagrid looked a little uncomfortable. “Well, their traits consist of being ambitious and resourceful. But…” he stopped walking once more and looked down at the boy more than half his size. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

You-know-who, Voldemort, was the wizard that killed Harry’s parents when he was a baby, and gave him his lightning shaped scar, but somehow, failed to kill him, and disappeared. Although Hagrid thinks he isn’t dead, that he’s still out there, weak. Unable to rise to his full power. That saying his name might somehow give him more energy to do so. 

Harry was the boy who lived. The only one to ever survive before Voldemort. He was special, significant. All this time, deep down in his heart, he knew he was destined for more. He knew that the mundane life just wasn’t for him. 

Harry shook his head. What was he thinking? Him, significant? What would it matter. He’d probably end up in Hufflepuff, knowing the disappointment he always turned out to be. 

No, he nodded to himself a little. Hufflepuffs are hard workers. He was a hard worker. Always did his chores right and never complained. Would it really be so bad? 

He was about to ask about the other two houses, before bumping into a tall wizard. At his level, all he saw were long strands of light blonde hair, and when he looked up, he was staring into cold, icy grey eyes above a long pointed nose. 

“I’m so sorry,” Harry muttered, swallowing nervously. 

“It’s… quite alright,” the man drew his words out lazily.

Harry was about to follow Hagrid when his eyes caught the boy he met at Madam Malkin's. Of course. This must be his father. 

“It’s alright, father. He’s the boy I met at Madam Malkin’s.” 

“Good to see you’ve already made friends, Draco,” said his father, but something gave Harry the impression that he couldn’t care less. More so than that, He was caught off guard by his analytical stare, as if he was trying to figure out where he might have seen him before. 

“Come on! Gotta catch yer train back to the Dursleys soon!” he heard Hagrid’s voice. 

It wasn’t hard to spot him in the crowd, him being so big and all. 

“See you on the train,” said the blonde boy, Draco, as him and his father walked away. Harry pushed his way through to Hagrid. 

“What’s the hold up, Harry? Can’t be losing ye so soon,” Hagrid chuckled, seemingly unaware of Harry’s encounter. The dark haired boy couldn’t stop thinking about that eerie stare. He understood by now, that more often than not wizards would recognise him as the famous Harry Potter now-and-again. But that kind of stare was unlike any other. It sent chills down his spine. 

* * *

On the train back home, Hagrid was talking about dragons, and other magical things, as muggles, non-magic people, looked at him like he was bonkers. 

Harry listened, fascinated to learn more about the magical world, and dreading leaving it behind even if it was for a short time. He remembered the kindness of that boy, and how he was keen to see him again on the train. And Dudley wouldn’t be there to antagonise him against him.

Hagrid gave Harry his ticket, and sent him back home to the Dursleys to wait for the term to start. Harry managed to convince Uncle Vernon to drop him off at King’s Cross Station, and the other merrily agreed. Perhaps it was because of the weird Platform number on the ticket, “Platform 9¾”, and how funny it would be if he wasn’t able to find it. 

He thought about how these muggles treated him all these years, how horrible everyone has been to him. And yet, all of the wizards he had ever met randomly, who bowed to him and shook his hand, were the nicest people in the world. And even when he met that boy, he didn’t know he was the famous Harry Potter, but still wanted to be his friend. He was finally going to where he belonged. Away from these muggles. 

Muggles… Harry’s mouth went dry, thinking about them. He couldn’t help but feel resentment deep inside. Antagonising Dudley didn’t give him quite enough satisfaction, it wasn’t anywhere near enough to balance out the amount of bullying and shaming and abuse he went through. Soon he will be part of a world in which he truly belonged. Soon.


	2. The Hogwarts Express

The Dursleys took Harry to King’s Cross Station. Uncle Vernon was even nice enough to take out his baggage for him. But that kindness was short lived. “Have fun finding Platform nine and three quarters!” Vernon bellowed, and got back in the car, which was now filled with laughter from the whole family. 

Harry frowned, looking with a scowl as they drove away, before looking back down at his ticket. He made his way to Platform 9 and 10, and then looked at the brick wall in between. 

He then looked at the clock, and sighed impatiently. 

“Platform nine and three quarters, come on…” he whispered to himself, feeling stupid, as if he should magically know or solve some kind of riddle. He hadn’t even noticed people staring at his owl. 

“We should have known it would be packed with muggles!” came a woman’s voice from somewhere in the crowd.

Muggles? Harry looked closely.

“Come along now platform nine and three quarters’ this way!” 

Harry saw a family of redheads, their baggage just as wild as his.

“Come on Percy, you first,” said the red haired woman who was unmistakably the mother. 

The stern looking boy named Percy got himself a head start, running straight towards the wall between platforms 9 and 10. Harry’s eyes widened, as he expected a crash, but the boy went straight through the wall and disappeared.

The woman ordered the two perfectly identical twins to go next, and they also disappeared one after the other. 

Harry quickly approached the red haired woman, “Excuse me,” he said “H- how do you-”

“How do you get onto the platform?” The woman smiled kindly. “Your first time? Don’t worry, it’s Ron’s first time too,” Harry looked over at the red haired boy, who looked just as nervous as he did. “All you have to do is go straight through between platforms nine and ten. Best to do it at a run, and make sure muggles don’t notice.” 

Harry swallowed, and looked over at Ron with wide eyes. He got his baggage ready, making sure his owl, Hedwig, was firmly in place, and ran towards the barrier, his heart almost stopping, expecting an impact. Instead, he ended up on the other side.

There was a train, “Hogwarts Express,” letting off steam, with students just like him roaming around, unloading their baggage and getting on the train. 

* * *

Harry finally got his stuff on board, and found himself a quiet cabin on the train. He thought about the friend he made. He didn’t want to go looking for him, and look stupid and annoying. That’s the last thing he wanted. To annoy someone and make them think badly of him on his first day. So he sat there and waited. The train soon took off, and Harry marvelled at the countryside, pinching himself one more time to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He was going to Hogwarts, away from his muggle family. He was going to where he belonged. 

A few minutes have passed, before his cabin door opened. 

The red haired boy from before stood there, looking awkward. “Mind if I come in? Everywhere else is full…” 

“No, of course,” Harry reached out his hand to the seat opposite, as Ron smiled and walked in. 

“I’m Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley.” 

“I’m Harry. Harry Potter.”

Ron’s eyes went wide. Harry thought his jaw might fall off. “Bloody hell. Are you really?”

Harry nodded, and smiled. 

“And… and you have the…” he leaned forward “the scar?” 

Harry pulled back his jet black, messy hair, to reveal the lightning bolt scar that Voldemort left the night he killed his parents. 

“Wicked…” Ron looked pleased. 

A second later, a nervous looking boy was knocking on their cabin door. He peeked inside. “S- sorry… have you by any chance seen a toad? H- his name is Trevor and I lost him…” 

Harry looked at Ron and shugged. Ron shook his head. “No, sorry… good luck finding him though.” 

Ron seemed alright, Harry thought. His family was nice too. He felt a pang of jealousy, wishing he had a family just like his. 

“By the way, do you know how to do any spells yet? My brothers Fred and George taught me one… you ready?” 

Harry nodded. Ron looked around for his wand. 

“What house do you reckon you’d be in?” he said as he looked, “I hope I’m in Gryffindor. My whole family is in Gryffindor. Would be a shame if I ended up in Hufflepuff.” 

Harry laughed a little. “Nothing wrong with Hufflepuff. They’re… hard working and loyal…” 

“Well, to be fair, I’m not very hard working so I’m safe…” Ron sighed a bit. “But imagine being in Slytherin…” he pulled out his wand.

“I know the traits Slytherins and Hufflepuffs have now, but what about Gryffindor… and the other house?” 

“Gryffindor is about bravery and courage and all that kind of stuff,” Ron replied. “Ravenclaw is about being smart.” 

“I see,” Harry muttered. He looked at Ron’s wand. 

“Oh, yes… the spell” Ron cleared his throat. But before he could carry on, he was cut off by someone else knocking on their door. 

It was a girl with messy, bushy hair, and a high-above-all expression. She was already wearing her uniform “Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost one.” 

Harry and Ron both shook their heads at the same time. 

The girl paused. “Are you… Harry Potter?” 

Harry nodded, not particularly surprised at this point. 

“I'm Hermione Granger... And you are?” more of a look of contempt crossed her face, as she looked at the red haired boy.

“I’m Ron Weasley,” he muttered. 

“Pleasure,” she really didn’t sound like she meant it, “anyway, I better go-” she paused, before looking at Ron’s wand. “Are you trying to cast a spell?”

Ron looked at her, before looking at the rat next to him that Harry hadn’t even noticed until now. “Oh, that’s scabbers. He’s our family’s rat…” he smiled awkwardly. 

Harry gave an unsure smile too. 

Ron cleared his throat. “Sunshine daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid fat rat yellow!” Ron shouted, waving his wand like a stick. Nothing happened. Hermione looked like her contempt couldn’t possibly be any worse. “Are you sure that’s a real spell?” 

Ron put his wand away, annoyed. 

“Well, it’s not very good. I, personally, have already learned some spells and read a lot of books during my summer holiday. I hope that you at least managed to open one. Anyway, you better change into your robes. I suspect we’ll be there soon.”

With that, she turned around and left briskly. Harry and Ron both looked at each other. “She seems like a nightmare…” muttered Ron. 

* * *

The two of them quickly changed into their robes. Harry quite liked his. For the first time something actually fit him, and he didn’t look like a hand-me-down wearing orphan for once. On the other hand, Ron was quite the opposite. His robes didn’t look as new. Ron was somehow aware that he would be judged for it. “Had to wear Fred’s old robes, mum can’t afford new ones.” he looked down. 

Harry was aware that he didn’t look like it now, but he said it anyway, “I understand how that feels.” 

Just then, the doors opened without warning, and there stood that boy from Diagon Alley. 

This time, though, there were two other boys behind him in the hallway. Both of them were much bigger than their leader, and much fatter too. They kind of resembled bodyguards, Harry thought. They were already wearing their robes, too, and looked just as pristine and clean as Harry. 

“When I heard that Harry Potter himself was on the train to Hogwarts, I figured I should go see for myself. But I had no idea that I already met him in Diagon Alley.” he smiled. It wasn’t as warm as Ron’s smile, but Harry couldn’t help but smile back. “Hi.” 

“I tried to see if I could find you at the platform, but you weren’t there.” said Draco. Harry looked a bit surprised. He actually tried to look for him? He felt special. He never really had a friend who would go out of their way to look for him before. 

“I’m Draco Malfoy by the way,” the blonde boy added, before looking over at Harry’s companion. “Red hair, hand-me-down robe… Are you a Weasley?” Draco asked, with a tinge of arrogance. 

Ron didn’t say anything. Harry looked at Ron and then back at Draco. “Ron is actually alright, he’s been quite nice to me.” 

Draco looked at Harry, “hmm…” he smiled. Though it didn’t look like a smile. The corners of his mouth went up a bit, but his eyes looked unbothered. “Of course he’s 'nice',” he said finally, “The Weasleys have always been poor. If you’re them, you have to be nice to someone rich and famous.” 

Harry looked over at Ron. Ron looked a little angry, “That’s not true. Don’t listen to him, Harry. He’s a Malfoy. They’re terrible, they are, all of them. Rotten to the core. Dad always says how they’re one of the worst kind of wizarding families. Wouldn’t trust him if I was you…” 

“I think I know who to trust for myself,” Harry said, all of a sudden with confidence in his voice. The opinion he had of Ron kind of dwindled, it was mean of him to say something like that about someone who was so nice to Harry. 

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, as the two of his friends sniggered. “I don’t appreciate your rudeness and cheek, Weasley,” Draco said coldly. “It’s up to you, Harry. I was willing to be your friend before I even knew who you were. You’d find that most often than not people will only care about you because of your fame and wealth.” he reached his hand out to Harry to shake. 

Harry paused, glancing at Ron. Draco was right. Nobody would care about him if he wasn’t ‘The boy who lived’. So far Draco was the only person who was willing to be his friend without knowing who he was. He looked at the blonde boy, and shook his hand. The other smiled, before glancing over at Ron with contempt, that was more venomous and cold than Hermione Granger’s. 

* * *

Harry followed Draco and his friends further down the train, before going to an empty cabin. Harry sat next to Draco, opposite the two that looked much dumber than their apparent leader. “This is Crabbe and Goyle.” 

Harry nodded at them, somehow they reminded him of Dudley. He thought Draco did when they first met, but he didn’t anymore. He was way nicer and more accepting of him than Dudley could ever be. No, the two boys didn’t quite resemble Dudley. Maybe Dudley’s minions. Yes. 

“Don’t mind them too much,” Draco said, looking over at Harry. “They can be quite dumb, but they’re very loyal.”

Crabbe nodded, whilst Goyle looked a bit confused by that comment. 

“Anyway, where were you since your… parents died?” he could tell Draco was trying to be a little more sensitive, well. As much as he was capable of being at least. 

“I lived with my aunt and uncle. They’re muggles.” 

“Oh wow…” Draco looked mystified. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like…” 

“It was awful,” Harry muttered. “They locked me away in a cupboard under the stairs, tried to steal all my Hogwarts letters away from me, starved me periodically and would always bully and make fun of me.” 

“Wow,” Draco really couldn’t find anything else to say. “Aren’t muggles just awful? Did you hear what he said?” he looked at Crabbe and Goyle. 

They nodded. 

“This is what father meant when he talked about how horrible they really are.” he began, “you met my father, actually. You bumped into him in Diagon Alley.” 

Harry nodded. Draco must have noticed how uncomfortable Harry looked, because he said, “father is quite intimidating and may seem really cold, but trust me, he’s not evil like everyone says he is,” the boy smoothed back his blonde hair a bit, looking at Goyle, whom gave him a thumbs up. “All he wants is to stop muggleborns from being allowed into Hogwarts, and into the magical world altogether. And people act like he wants them dead or something.” he looked back at Harry, “I mean, do you really want people like your aunt and uncle going to Hogwarts?” 

Harry quickly shook his head. 

“People nowadays will make up any sort of lies to discredit my father and my family as a whole. Just let those muggles live in peace in their own little muggle world or whatever. Why do they have to come to Hogwarts and act like they’re suddenly better than everyone else and like they know everything about our world.” 

Harry nodded once again. He felt a bit dumb, not knowing what to say half the time Draco talked to him. He didn’t know anything about the wizarding world, but he could imagine how arrogant Dudley would be if he came to Hogwarts. 

He finally got his thoughts together and said, “I agree. Those muggles I grew up with hid from me that I was a wizard, and told me my parents died in a car crash. Even everyone at school hated me... Now that I think about it, I rarely ever met a nice muggle… Except for maybe Mrs Figg, even though she was always annoying me with her cat pictures…” 

“See,” Draco illustrated, “we don’t really know any actual muggles, but here’s someone with actual experience! I can’t believe they did all those things to you, Harry. I’m sorry, can’t imagine what it must have been like.” Draco did, genuinely look sympathetic. Harry’s story fed his narrative that all muggles are awful even more than before. He couldn’t wait to write to his father about this. 

“Anything from the trolley?” came a voice from the hallway. 

Draco shot up, “Sweets.” he looked at Harry, “you probably never had magical sweets before, right?”

Harry shook his head. 

Seconds later, Draco came back. He bought a bunch of different snacks, placing some on Harry’s lap and then opening up a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. 

“What about us?” Crabbe reached out. Draco pulled away with disgust on his face. “Get your own…” 

Harry looked up at Crabbe who sighed and pulled out some sickles, counting them slowly. He smiled a bit and looked down at a chocolate frog, some gummy snakes in a packet and a few other goodies. He pulled out one of the snakes from the package and it began to move, slithering about on his arm. It reminded him of that boa constrictor that he freed at the zoo on Dudley’s birthday, by unintentionally making the glass disappear with magic. He smiled a little. Though he’d feel kind of weird about eating it. 

Draco’s face was suddenly contorted in disgust. “Ugh, I got a rotten cabbage flavour…” he spat the bean into a napkin and wiped his mouth. Harry looked at what he was eating. “What are those?”

“Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Want one?” Draco said. 

Crabbe finally got up with his money, and went to find the trolley which was probably long gone as he was counting his spare change. 

Harry nodded, with interest, and picked out a bean. 

“I mean if you couldn’t already tell from their name, they literally come in every flavour. I wanted to see my father try it, but he refused. God it would have been so funny…” 

Harry put the bean in his mouth, expecting it to be something terrible. When he bit in he realized it tasted like ice cream. “I like it,” he said, “It tastes so accurate...” he was genuinely impressed. Muggle sweets had nothing on this. 

Next, Harry took a chocolate frog package, and opened it. Inside was a frog made of chocolate. 

“Don’t let that bugger get away,” Goyle pointed. Harry looked at him, but when he looked back at the frog, it was gone. It jumped straight out of the window. 

“Don’t worry… Crabbe never managed to catch one in his life,” Goyle laughed. 

“Not like you did either,” Draco remarked. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry looked at Draco. 

Draco glanced over at him, confused. “What for? The frog isn’t important. It’s the card that comes with it,” he pointed at the bottom of the package. “Which one did you get?” 

Harry pulled the card out and looked at it. “Dumbledore,” he said. 

“Ooh, fancy getting one of him for your first. Father doesn’t like him very much, but he’s way more powerful than you-know-who, so you got to respect him.” 

Harry remembered that Dumbledore was also the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He nodded and looked back at his card. There was Dumbledore’s name and face on the front. When he turned it around, he saw a description. He read it. 

"Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragons blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling."

“I’d love to try Alchemy, wouldn’t you?” Draco quickly said, giving the rest of his every flavour beans to Harry, and moving on to the next treat. 

“Sounds interesting,” said Harry. 

“Wait,” he looked at Draco with wide eyes, “Dumbledore’s gone!” he showed him the card. The image of dumbledore was missing.

“Probably gone off to do his ten-pin bowling or whatever,” Draco waved his hand, not realizing how confused Harry was. 

Crabbe eventually arrived with only one packet of sweets. Draco opened his chocolate frog and caught it by its leg, before throwing it in his mouth. Goyle clapped and cheered. 

He pulled out his card and looked at it, “Merlin… I already have one of him. You can have it,” Draco gave his card to Harry. Goyle kind of reached out his hand for a moment, looking like he really wanted it. “I haven’t got one of those yet,” he mumbled. 

Draco looked at him with piercing eyes, “Harry hasn’t got any cards at all. So he can have it.” 

Harry wanted to give it to Goyle, who looked so desperate for it, but Draco wanted him to have it. He wouldn’t want to upset his new friend. “If I get another Merlin I promise I will give it to you,” said Harry. Goyle smiled. 


	3. The Sorting Hat

Soon enough they finally arrived. The boys followed Draco out onto the platform, and as Harry got out, he looked up in awe at the gigantic castle. 

This was Hogwarts. It was beautiful. 

“Come on, first years, over ‘ere!” He heard a familiar voice. It was Hagrid. Without thinking, Harry ran off to talk to him. Draco was busy talking to Goyle to notice at first. When he did, he whacked Crabbe’s arm, “where did he go?” 

Crabbe looked confused and shrugged. 

Draco sighed and pushed through the crowd. He bumped into someone with frizzy, bushy hair and pulled a face of disgust. “Get out of my way.” 

The girl heard him and turned around, “Don’t be so rude!” she crossed her arms. 

“Don’t be so… in the way…” Draco couldn’t be bothered to think up a good insult. By the time he reached Harry he saw him with Hagrid.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry,” the giant smiled kindly, looking below his bushy beard. Harry smiled back. 

Draco approached them. “Oh, there you are, Harry.” 

“Made some friends, I see?” Hagrid looked down at Draco. 

Moments later they were on boats, getting ever so closer to the school of their dreams. Harry, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were together on a boat with a curly haired Mexican boy, looking around, mesmerised. Even those who grew up in the wizarding world were amazed by it all. 

Ron was on a boat with some other first years. They were all soon blabbering on about Harry Potter. Ron had his arms crossed. “Don’t know why all of you are so excited… he’s friends with Malfoy, he’s bound to be rotten too…” 

“But he killed you-know-who…” someone said. 

“Yeah when he was a baby. Doesn’t mean he’s going to suddenly be a hero or something…” he was clearly annoyed, looking a few boats ahead at Harry and his new friend group. 

* * *

When they arrived at Hogwarts, and made their way to the great hall, they couldn’t take their eyes off of their surroundings. Harry was shocked by the moving portraits covering the walls. 

They saw a stern looking teacher standing at the top of the steps, and followed the other first years up to meet her. The boy named Neville suddenly gasped, “Trevor!”

Everyone looked at him as he picked his frog up. Draco sneered. 

“Good for him,” Harry muttered, as the stern looking woman looked at them. “Welcome to Hogwarts, my name is Professor McGonagall. When the time is right, you will go through these doors and be sorted into your houses. For now, wait here.” she disappeared behind the great doors. 

Draco turned to Harry, “what d’you think of this place, Harry?”

“I think its amazing,” Harry muttered, still looking around in awe. 

Draco shrugged, before nodding, “I guess so… Though it’s a bit ancient looking...” 

Just then, someone shoved past Harry, and it took him a few seconds to realize who it was. It was Ron. 

“What’s your problem, Weasley?” Draco spoke up, before Harry could say anything. 

Ron stopped and turned around. 

“Did your lower class family not teach you any manners, like excuse me, perhaps?” 

“Says you,” a girl suddenly spoke up. Harry recognised her voice. Hermione. He didn’t know what she was talking about. 

“Oh, shut up,” Draco snarled. 

Harry stepped forward. “Look, there’s no need to fight. He probably didn’t mean it…” Harry looked at Ron. 

Draco turned to Harry “you can just tell by his face how much he hates you…” 

Harry shrugged. He really wasn’t sure what to believe. But he knew for a fact that he didn’t want to fight with anyone. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks of me. I won’t stoop down to his level.” 

Draco raised his eyebrows, before nodding. “That’s true. You’re right. We won’t stoop down to Weasley’s level,” he looked at Crab and Goyle, smiling, as they laughed. 

Ron looked over at Hermione awkwardly. “Thanks…” he muttered. He then looked at Harry once more as the doors opened and Professor McGonagall appeared again. “Are you all ready?” 

The new students were lead into the great hall, now even more amazed by how grand it was. There was a starry night sky above them, which Hermione’s voice explained, was bewitched to look that way. Older students were already there, sitting on the tables of their respective houses, looking at them with interest.

Dumbledore welcomed them with open arms, and invited them to be sorted. The sorting hat began to sing, which made Draco snigger with Crabbe and Goyle. Harry felt nervous. What if he really was sorted into Hufflepuff. What will Draco think of him then? Would he even want to be his friend anymore? He glanced over at him, noticing that after he stopped laughing, he was as calm and cool as ever. 

Professor McGonagall called up the first student, and put the sorting hat on her head. 

The hat shouted “Hufflepuff!” and the girl ran off to her house’s table, as it burst into applause. A few more people were sorted. Hermione, into Gryffindor. Ron, into Gryffindor. Neville, also Gryffindor. Harry supposed that being in Gryffindor would be better than in Hufflepuff. 

Crabbe and Goyle were sorted into Slytherin. And it was soon Draco’s turn. He gave a small smile to Harry, and went up to the sorting hat. Professor McGonagall barely even put the hat on his head, before it shouted “Slytherin!” 

Harry clapped and cheered with the other Slytherins. 

Slytherin also got a boy named Josh, the Mexican boy with the curly black hair who shared a boat with them on the way here. 

“Michael Munroe,” Professor Mcgonagal read off the list. A small boy, with long, dark red hair appeared from the crowd. It wasn’t bright and vibrant like the Weasley’s, much more auburn and muted. His eyes were green, though, a slightly darker shade than Harry’s. Harry would have thought he was a girl, if it wasn’t for his name.

He looked nervous, as the hat was placed on his head. It took a while to decide… “SLYTHERIN!” the sorting hat finally bellowed. Everyone clapped. One boy stood up at the Slytherin table. Looked like a fifth year. “That’s my little brother!” 

Michael didn’t look like he was particularly happy. It was hard to say what he felt. His expression didn’t show much as he walked to the table, to be awkwardly embraced by his grandiose sibling. 

“Harry Potter…” 

Everyone went dead quiet. Harry looked around, wide eyed. Everyone was looking right at him. He went up to the stool, and sat down. Professor McGonagall put the sorting hat on his head, and it suddenly began talking to him. “Hmm, difficult. VERY difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh yes. And a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?” the hat began, as Harry focused. He wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do. A little voice inside his mind pleaded, “not Hufflepuff…” 

The sorting hat laughed. “Not Hufflepuff? You definitely don’t belong to Hufflepuff…” 

Harry sighed. “I know, you have so much potential, and I know exactly the house to put you in.” the sorting hat then shouted, for the whole hall to hear, “SLYTHERIN!” 

Harry opened his eyes, and got off the stool. The Slytherin house was pretty much the only one cheering. Everyone else looked surprised, or concerned, or even a little scared. Great Harry Potter, was put in Slytherin. As Harry approached the table, he couldn’t help but notice the stares he got from other houses. Draco waved Harry over. It seems that he had saved him a seat. 

“Congrats… though why did it take so long?” Draco wondered. 

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “Though the sorting hat said, “you definitely don’t belong to hufflepuff.”” 

Draco laughed. “What a relief. Imagine though, if you did…” 

“Yeah,” Harry laughed it off “you guys would probably hate me.” he tried to make his concern seem light hearted. 

“Hate you? Nah… if you were truly Hufflepuff I don’t think we’d get along in the first place.”

Harry thought about it, and then nodded. Not like he knew much about the houses anyway. 

After the sorting was over, Dumbledore told his speech, and they all sang the Hogwarts song. There was no melody so everyone sang it as they pleased. Crabbe and Goyle were doing some heavy metal growling whilst Draco sat there, looking bored. Harry tried to sing along to the flashing lyrics above Dumbledore, but just couldn’t do it with so many people singing it differently. Once everyone was done, they all waited for the two Weasley twins to finish singing. They tuned along to a slow sad melody, swaying from side to side dramatically. Harry thought they were funny. Draco found it annoying. 

Once they were done, Dumbledore clapped. “Just a few reminders. No students are allowed to go into the forbidden forest, or wander around the castle at night. And all students are forbidden from the 3rd floor corridor, unless you wish to die the most painful death.” 

Everyone looked around nervously. Draco looked confused. “Thought this was supposed to be the safest place on earth…” 

Dumbledore introduced the new defence against the dark arts teacher, Professor Quirrel, before announcing the banquet. 

Food magically appeared on the tables in front of the students. Harry looked around in awe. It was everything he ever wanted to eat but the Dursleys wouldn’t let him. He grabbed a bit of everything, excited, as Draco piled chicken drumsticks on his plate. 

“I knew my little brother would make it into Slytherin,” said the blonde boy, who was sitting next to the red haired boy, Michael. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it here,” he hugged him from the side, almost hitting Harry, as the other flinched a little. Whilst his charismatic brother held a chicken drumstick in his hand and talked to his two best friends, Victoria Meyrose and Raphael Volkov, Michael put some vegetables on his plate and stayed quiet. 

Draco must have noticed something strange, because he jumped a little in surprise and then turned around to look at the older students. “Is that a ghost?” 

Harry’s eyes widened. A ghost? He looked over to where Draco was looking. There was an almost transparent stern looking man sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table, leaning on his elbow begrudgingly, and covered in what looks like… blood? 

“The Bloody Baron,” someone nearby said, whilst reaching over to grab some gravy that was sitting by Draco’s plate, which was full of chicken drumsticks and chips. 

“Why’s he bloody?” Draco wondered. 

“No one knows. I wouldn’t get on his bad side if I were you, though. He’s bloody terrifying. Haha get it, bloody…” 

On the Gryffindor table, Ron got pats on his back for making it into their house by his siblings. Someone from across the table said, “Can you believe Harry Potter is in Slytherin?” 

“I expected him to be a Gryffindor if I’m being honest…” 

“Do you think he might… turn bad?” someone muttered. 

“Maybe he already is, have you seen him with Malfoy?” 

Ron sighed. “He doesn’t seem like a bad person…” Harry could have made fun of him with Malfoy if he wanted to, but he didn’t. “Maybe… he’s just a bit misguided.” 

Hermione looked at Ron for a while, before nodding. “I’ve read about Slytherin. It produced a fair share of dark wizards over the ages. The founder, Salazar Slytherin himself was quite evil. I wouldn’t even be allowed here if he got his way, since both my parents are muggles.” 

“Bloody hell…” Ron looked kind of white. “If someone who can beat you-know-who as a baby goes bad… then we’re all screwed…” 

Harry looked at Draco, “you see that professor with the turban, Professor Quirrel. I met him at the Leaky Cauldron.” 

“Really? What’s he like?” 

“He seemed really nervous…” 

When Harry locked eyes with the professor with jet black, long hair, he felt a jolt of pain on his forehead. “Ouch,” he touched his scar. 

“What is it?” Draco looked at him. 

“That teacher there, who is he?” he asked. 

A girl opposite him answered. “That’s Professor Snape,” she said. She had platinum blonde hair, similar to Draco’s. “He’s the head of our house. Can be quite intimidating, but don’t take it too personally.” Her kind smile looked out of place at the Slytherin table, but her confidence didn’t, for the most part. “I’m Evalyn De’Claire by the way. That’s my twin brother, Cole,” she pointed at the boy next to her. He looked just like her, except he was a boy with short platinum hair, and had an arrogant looking smirk on his face. “Hello,” He looked over, leaning on his elbow. 

“Eat your dinner,” Evalyn huffed. 

“But I need room in my belly for sweets,” he complained. They both didn’t look much older than them. Maybe second or third years. 

Harry tuned out of their banter quite quickly, noticing Professor Snape once more. Though now the burning wasn’t quite that intense. There was something unsettling about that man, but he didn’t know what it was. 


	4. Slytherin Common Room

Gemma Farley, the Prefect of Slytherin, took the first years to the common rooms. She explained the rules to the new students in more detail as they went down the steps through a corridor near the Entrance hall. Harry mostly marvelled at the moving portraits on the way down. Draco on the other hand looked bored. Crabbe and Goyle followed him and Harry. Goyle leaned closer. “Psst… you remember that Gryffindor girl with the bushy hair? The know-it-all?” 

Draco and Harry both nodded. “Yeah what about her?” 

“I heard she’s a muggleborn…” 

“Is she really?” Draco gave a bit of a laugh at that. 

“I talked to her on the train.” said Harry, “She’s really bossy and acts like she knows everything about magic.” She was extremely annoying and rude, Harry thought. Kind of like Dudley would be if he was a wizard. 

“The arrogance of muggleborns is outstanding,” Draco said in a sour tone. “They think they can study for a month or two and then come to Hogwarts thinking they know more about magic than we do.” he looked back at Crabbe and Goyle. “Like Harry for example, is a pureblood wizard who was stuck with muggles his whole life and never knew about magic. And he doesn’t go around pretending he knows everything all of a sudden.. I’m telling you, something about that muggle blood isn’t right.” 

Crabbe and Goyle nodded. 

Harry thought about it for a moment. Could it really be that? He never fit in with the muggles. He was fundamentally different. With wizards, at Hogwarts, he actually felt like people understood him, and he fit in. 

Soon enough they got down into the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room was. They made their way through a bare, stone corridor, before reaching the entrance. 

It was a medieval looking door, with a somewhat menacing aura. Gemma Farley turned around to look at the first years, and said, “all common rooms are protected by passwords. Don’t forget it, and don’t let the other houses find out what it is.” 

She turned back to the door, and spoke, “Pure-blood.” 

The doors opened, and everyone followed the prefect into the room. 

Draco sneered, “Don’t think I’ll forget this password…” 

“Pure-blood?” Harry looked a bit confused. 

“Yeah. It means that you have pure magic blood in your veins. Essentially, if both your parents were wizards. Slytherin doesn’t accept muggleborns, or half bloods even.”

“Well, technically Slytherin does,” a girl spoke up. 

Draco and Harry both looked at her, Draco was rather annoyed. “Who asked for your opinion?” 

“I’m just saying… that if a half-blood rejects the muggle side of their family, they can still be sorted into Slytherin.” 

The girl looked rather intimidating in Harry’s opinion, though he couldn’t help but notice that her face somewhat resembled the shape of a pug.

“What are you, a half-blood, then?” Draco enquired rather rudely. 

“No. I’m Pansy Parkinson,” the girl half snarled back. 

“Parkinson? Like Perseus Parkinson kind of Parkinson?” 

“Yes. He’s like my great great great however many greats grandfather,” she smiled proudly. 

Harry was confused more and more by the second. 

“I’m Draco Malfoy,” Draco seemed to have a slight change of tone.

“Yes, I heard…” she looked over at Harry with gleaming eyes. “And you’re Potter?” 

Harry was quiet for several seconds, before nodding quickly. He felt like a bit of an idiot. Here they were, talking about the wizarding world, and Harry hadn’t a clue what they were on about. 

They missed the last words of what Gemma Farley had to say, though Draco didn’t really seem to care. 

“Where’s Crabbe and Goyle?” he looked around, as if suddenly remembering they exist. 

Harry glanced around too. He felt bad thinking it, but they did slip his mind whenever they weren’t talking or being talked about. 

“Perhaps they went downstairs?” Harry said. 

He finally got the chance to properly look around the common room. 

There were green lamps and leather armchairs and sofas situated around the room. The Slytherin emblem, a snake, was an occurring theme throughout the design of the dungeon-like space. 

The chamber itself was quite dark, lit only by the fire in the fireplace, and a tinge of green glowing through the glazed windows. Harry couldn’t wrap his head around what the source of that light might be. Someone must have read his thoughts, because they asked, “What’s outside?” 

Gemma answered, “the lake. This Dungeon is partially underwater.” 

“Cool,” the student looked amazed. “We’re underwater…”

Harry took a look around once more. And somehow, looking past the ominous ornaments, skulls and how dark it was, it felt kind of homely. There was something about darkness that felt comforting to Harry. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was a true Slytherin, or because Aunt and Uncle Dusley wouldn’t step a single foot in this place. 

“I kind of like it here,” said Draco, finally. “Don’t you?” he looked at Harry.

Harry nodded. 

“Let’s go downstairs, and find Crabbe and Goyle before they eat our beds… or our owls” he gave a small laugh and ran down the stone steps, followed by Harry. The dormitory seemed quite cosy, not as ominously decorated as the common room was. There were four poster beds dedicated to each student, and their luggage was already placed at the side of each bed. 

Draco’s bed was a few beds across from Harry’s, though Crabbe and Goyle’s somehow managed to be side by side. As if he wasn’t already full from the feast, Crabbe was gorging himself on whatever it was that was in his luggage, whilst Goyle was passed out on his four poster, snoring. 

Harry approached Draco’s bed, seeing him stroking his owl with a smile. “You have a very pretty owl,” he said, smiling slightly. It resembled an eagle, and Harry figured it must have been a crossbreed or something. 

“Yeah, his name’s Niklaus. Klaus for short. Father bought him for me to take to Hogwarts.”

Harry gave him a stroke, before going to his own bed to find Hedwig. She was still in her cage, looking rather hungry. Harry went through his luggage and got out some food for her, before opening the cage and letting her out. She jumped onto his arm, and pecked at the food he held open in his hand. 

Harry smiled. It all felt so surreal. A part of him worried that at any moment, the Dursleys would jump out and say that it was all some kind of prank. Or Dumbledore himself would come down to tell Harry that he made a mistake, and that he should pack his bags and go back to Privet Drive. 

When Harry looked away from Hedwig, he noticed that the red haired boy he thought was a girl at the sorting ceremony was on the bed next to his. He was unpacking his things, and stopped once he noticed Harry looking at him. 

“Oh, sorry,” Harry felt stupid. 

“It’s fine,” the boy said quietly. 

With all the Slytherins he knew so far, they were quite confident and outgoing. He, on the other hand, seemed closed off, like a shell. 

“Is that your owl?” Draco suddenly approached Harry’s bed. 

Harry nodded, “yes, her name is Hedwig.” 

“D’you think Klaus and Hedwig would get along?” 

Harry shrugged, and then smiled a bit. 

“Are you part of the Munroe family?” Draco addressed the boy with the long, red hair. 

He looked at Draco. “Yes.” 

Despite his quietness, he didn’t seem to be shy or nervous. 

“I heard your family would have made it in the Sacred Twenty-Eight if your great something grandmother didn’t marry a muggle…” 

“That was a century ago,” the boy replied. 

“What a shame… Father talked about how he was friends with a Munroe.” 

The boy didn’t reply, as he carried on taking books out from his luggage. 

Draco crossed his arms, “Why do you and your brother have different coloured hair?” 

“He dyes it blonde whenever the roots grow back.” 

“I’m not surprised. I’d dye my hair too if I looked like a Weasley…” 

Harry could tell that the boy didn’t really want to talk to Draco. Maybe because he was being kind of pushy. 

“Anyway, I’m going to unpack my things and go to sleep… Night Harry,” he followed up with a yawn, and went off to his own bed. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s just curious is all,” Harry said to the other. 

The boy nodded and smiled a bit. It was the first expression he has seen on him so far. “It’s okay. I know.” 

“Your name is Michael, right?” Harry asked, hoping that he wasn’t pestering too much. 

Michael nodded. He glanced over at him. “And you’re Harry?” 

Harry smiled and nodded. He also began unpacking his things, organising his books and clothes. Eventually his neighbour disappeared behind the green curtain that surrounded the bed. Harry looked at his own. He also had a curtain on his bed. Figured this was here for privacy. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to draw it, though, since the tiny space would remind him of his cupboard under the stairs. He wanted to sleep out in the open, enjoying the green glow that illuminated through the window softly. It would move around, to the movements of the lake, occasionally disappearing, probably whenever a bigger fish swam by, Harry thought. It calmed him down, and eventually, he began to fall asleep. 

Harry found himself in a very peculiar dream. In that dream, he was wearing Professor Quirrel’s turban, and it demanded for him to transfer into Hufflepuff at once. Harry refused, and the Turban began weighing down heavier and heavier on him. He saw himself wearing a hufflepuff tie, and Draco and the other Slytherins pointing and laughing at him. 

There was suddenly a flash of green light, and Harry woke up, something warm and heavy weighing down on his belly. 

He looked down to see a cat staring down at him. It was an american shorthair, its groomed fur smoothly reflecting the soft green light. 

He heard a voice from nearby, “Cheshire, come here…” 

It was Michael. “Don’t, you’ll wake him…” 

Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes, and the cat jumped down off his bed. 

“Sorry about that…” The red haired boy looked just as sleepy as Harry felt. He wondered what time it was. It was hard to tell, being underwater. Though he figured it was still night time, as the serene, green glow hadn’t gotten any brighter. 

“It’s alright…” Harry mumbled, watching Cheshire the cat jump back onto Michael’s bed. Michael drew in his curtain, as Harry sat on his bed, thinking about the dream. It was strange, to say the least. 

He looked at Hedwig, before deciding to go back to sleep. 


	5. Potions Master

On their way out of the dungeons the next morning, Harry, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had their first run in with the school Poltergeist named Peeves. Crabbe was looking forward to breakfast so much so that he hadn’t noticed a drawn out rope a few steps below. He ended up tripping and tumbling down to the bottom of the stairway with a yelp and a groan. Harry was a little taken aback, although to his surprise, Draco and Goyle were sniggering, hands over their mouths, trying not to burst into laughter. 

The boy with the glasses rushed down to the bottom of the stairs, before feeling an unsettling presence behind him. 

“Haha he fell for it!” someone’s voice rang through his ears. “He feeelll for it… LITERALLY!” 

Harry whipped around and saw what looked like a little clown. He wore outlandish clothes, with orange eyes and a bow tie to match them, and a jester-like hat on his head. 

Harry blinked, and the little man vanished from view. 

“What the…” Harry muttered, before running down the last few steps to see if Crabbe was alright. 

The boy seemed fine. The layers of fat seemed to save him any real injuries, although he moaned and wailed in pain. 

Draco and Goyle jumped over the step with the rope, and joined Harry and Crabbe, whom was now trying to get up. 

“What was that?” Draco asked cautiously. Harry could tell Goyle was suppressing his laughter. But Draco seemed genuinely impressed. “Did you pull some kind of prank on him, Harry?” 

“What? No…” Harry looked at him, wide-eyed. “It was… this funny looking man… he disappeared…” he looked around, as if expecting him to appear again at any moment. “He was also floating…” 

“Are you trying to be funny?” Draco raised an eyebrow, as Crabbe let out another pathetic wail. “Get up, Crabbe. Stop acting like you’ve just been stabbed or something…” 

Goyle couldn’t hold back his laughs any longer. Draco was getting annoyed more and more by the minute. 

Just then, they saw Professor McGonagall walk past the corridor. She stopped, and glanced over to see what on earth was going on.

“Oh my goodness, what on earth are you four doing?” she approached, with concern in her voice. 

“This weird small man put a rope on the staircase, and Crabbe tripped and fell.”

“Peeves…” said the Professor, disdain laced in her voice. “He’s the school Poltergeist. I’ll need to have a word with Bloody Baron. He’s the only one that troublemaker will listen to. It’s becoming unacceptable,” she looked down at Crabbe. “Wait here, I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey.” 

Soon enough, Professor McGonagall returned with the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, who used magic to lift the miserable boy off the floor and fly him to the hospital wing. Harry reckoned that there would have been no other way to lift him otherwise. 

Professor McGonagall sent the other three to breakfast, and so they went. 

Harry asked Draco, “what’s a Poltergeist?” 

Draco began, “they’re kind of like ghosts but they’re not. They can fly and disappear, but also interact with real objects. I think father talked about jinxing one once. I wonder if it was the same one at Hogwarts.” 

“I see,” Harry muttered. He was grateful for the other’s patience. Thought he might be getting rather annoying with all his questions. But the other seemed happy and rather proudly explained how their world worked. 

* * *

After breakfast, they went to their first lesson. Draco was just as useless as Harry was about finding their way to their classes. They were making their way up a staircase, when it started to move. Harry grabbed onto the railing, and Draco gave out a tiny yelp of surprise. “Isn’t this kind of dangerous?” he looked just as uneasy as Harry did. “How are we supposed to know where to go?” 

Harry tried to ask the people in the portraits for directions, but they were completely useless. One of them started speaking in poetry, and Harry wondered if he was supposed to solve a riddle to find out. The two of them attempted to open a door, after a friendly Ghost pointed them towards the classroom they were looking for, but, to no avail. 

“This is useless. Why didn’t they give us a map?” Draco complained sourly. 

Just then, there was a cold, harsh voice behind them. 

“What are you doing up here?” 

They turned around and saw the school caretaker, Mr Filch. He had hunchback shoulders and gross, bulging eyes. Next to him, was a cat, looking just as old and tattered as he did. Mrs Norris. “This is the forbidden corridor, boys. You’re not supposed to be up here…” 

He had an evil sort of grin on his face. Harry knew they were in trouble. They heard the other students talking about Filch and his cat, and how he wished he could hang students from their thumbs in the dungeons. 

Just as Harry thought that they were done, Professor Quirrel saved them. 

“P- P- Perhaps these two are… j- just lost. L- lets go boys, I- I- I’ll see you to your next lesson…” he stammered, as Harry let out a breath of relief. Draco had a sour look on his face the whole way down to History of Magic. 

“Don’t you just want to kick that stupid cat?”

Harry nodded a bit, as they reached their class. 

* * *

Both Draco and Harry found History of Magic kind of boring, but the other classes were absolutely fascinating. Harry got to see how there was so much more to wizardry than wand waving and magic words. 

On Tuesday, they had their first Transfiguration lesson. Professor McGonagall transfigured her table into a pig, and then back to normal again. The students all looked amazed, so it wasn’t just Harry feeling out of place, trying to soak it all in and get used to seeing it. 

“Transfiguration is one of the most dangerous and powerful forms of magic. Therefore, if I find any of you messing around you will be removed from this class.” her gaze fell upon Goyle, who was poking his match with his wand. Draco elbowed him, and he quickly looked up and put his wand down. 

“Now, for our first lesson, we’re going to start with something small. Each of you has a match in front of them, and your task is to transfigure that match into a needle.”

Draco sighed. “This is boring,” he whispered, but Harry had to disagree. Even such a tiny bit of magic was absolutely fascinating. He was excited to get started. 

Draco’s disdain soon turned into annoyance, as he was unable to transfigure his match into a needle, or anything really, no matter how much he tried. 

Harry was also making no progress. He was relieved to see that he wasn’t the only one. 

He looked over to Michael, who was sitting next to him, to find that his match had turned nickel. It still resembled the shape of a match, but was now gleaming under the lights of the lamps. 

It was the first piece of progress the class has made, but was soon followed up by Pansy Parkinson, who managed to transfigure a slight point to her match. 

Professor McGonagall had a small smile on her face, which was rare for the students to see. 

“Munroe and Parkinson, well done. 10 points to Slytherin.” 

Parkinson looked extremely proud of herself. Michael, on the other hand, looked expressionless. Draco roughly patted his shoulder, reaching over Harry to do so. 

“See, our house has the best of the best,” he remarked to the Hufflepuffs sitting behind them. 

Harry smiled just a bit. 

Gemma Farley has already explained the points system to them, and the fact that their house has been winning the house cup for many years now. They were already racking up points like nobody’s business. 

Defense against the Dark Arts, on the other hand, was a bit of a joke. Draco and Harry looked bored out of their heads as Professor Quirrel told them stories about how he had to ward of a Vampire in Romania, and when he had inherited his turban from an African prince for rescuing him from a troublesome zombie. 

Draco whispered to Harry, “I bet he’s terrified of that vampire coming back. This room reeks of garlic…” he scrunched his face in disgust, as Harry couldn’t help but give out a small laugh. “Do you reckon he stuffs his turban with garlic too?” he remarked, after all the man smelled of garlic wherever he went. 

This made Draco laugh a little louder, interrupting Professor Quirrel in his thought. “A- ahem c- can we all please c- c- c- concentrate on the l- lesson…” 

“What lesson? When are we actually going to learn something?” Said Pansy from the row in front. 

This must have really upset Professor Quirrel. He looked like he didn’t really know how to take criticism. 

A few seconds of silence, Quirrel gathered his thoughts and resumed. 

* * *

Several days later, during breakfast, Harry received a note from Hagrid during post. It felt kind of nice to get something, after watching Draco recieve letters and different kinds of sweets and gifts from his mother almost every single day. It invited him to come have tea later on today. Harry quickly scribbled back a reply, using his colour changing quill, and gave the note to Hedwig to take back to Hagrid. 

Draco looked up from his letter, and raised an eyebrow. “You got post too?” 

Harry nodded. “Yeah, Hagrid invited me to come drink tea.” 

“And are you going to go?” Draco enquired, rather judgingly. 

“Yes,” Harry said, looking at Draco. 

“But… I heard his house is… cluttered and smells weird… what if he sets fire to it whilst we’re inside?” 

“You don’t have to come along, you know.” Harry felt dejected. He wished Draco could see Hagrid for the brilliant man that he was. 

Draco sighed. “Whatever…” he opened up his package from his mother, which contained a dragon’s fang. Something Draco really wanted apparently. 

He showed it off to Harry, “look at that. Ain’t it cool?” 

Harry nodded. He couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Not for the fang, but for the fact that Draco had parents who really cared about him. Draco would complain about how his mother kept sending letters and wouldn’t let him be, but Harry thought it must have been wonderful to have a mother that was alive, let alone so caring. 

* * *

Finally, they were to have their very first Potions class. Draco seemed the most excited for it. “I wonder what kind of potion we’re going to make. Probably not something too advanced, but still. I would want a potion that can give me super strength.” 

Harry nodded. Maybe potions didn’t interest him as much as other types of magic, but he was still curious to see what it would be like. Though as soon as they entered the classroom, and saw Professor Snape, Harry knew that it wouldn’t be as fun as he had hoped. 

They knew Snape would be their Potions professor, but the look on his face when he saw Harry was nothing short of distaste. 

They took their seats, and Harry caught sight of Ron and Hermione, as well as the rest of the Gryffindors, on the other side of the classroom. 

Ron noticed him too, and looked away quickly. 

Before Snape could speak, a boy from Slytherin quickly came through the door, holding his books and his wand. It was the dark, curly haired boy. Harry remembered that his name was Josh. 

The boy sat down next to Michael, looking out of breath and disheveled, like he didn’t get much sleep. 

Professor Snape looked at him for a moment, and decided to ignore him, proceeding with the roll call. he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity."

Harry’s eyes widened. He glanced at Draco, and then back towards the Professor. 

Draco had a small smile on his face. 

Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. Like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death… if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed that little speech.

Draco whispered to Harry, “I knew he’d be my favourite professor…” 

Harry nodded without really thinking about it. He was using his colour changing quill to neatly write down what Professor Snape was saying. 

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry looked up quickly, as Hermione’s hand suddenly shot up from the other end of the class. 

"I don't know, sir," said Harry nervously. 

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut-fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry forced himself to keep looking into those cold eyes.

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione’s hand couldn’t get any higher, thought Harry. She was partially standing by now, trying to get Snape’s attention. 

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Draco’s eyes widened as he looked at Harry with a smile. He could tell he was impressed. 

Professor snape, on the other hand, wasn’t. 

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" he glared around the class. 

Everyone grabbed their quills and began to write. Draco took his fancy looking one, and dipped it into his ink bottle. He couldn’t wipe his smile from his face, as Harry stared at Snape, not moving a single muscle. 

Over the noise of quills scratching parchment, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House, for being an insufferable know-it-all, Granger."

Draco sneered, elbowing Harry. “This is why we’re the house that wins house cup every year. We don’t have stupid mudbloods running around causing us to lose points…” 

Harry wasn’t sure what the word mudblood really meant. He figured it was a term to describe muggleborns. 

Harry couldn’t remember what Professor Snape said about the potion ingredients he listed. He looked at Draco’s parchment and decided to copy down what he wrote. 

Snape was strolling around in his black cloak, watching them closely. 

Soon enough, the students were making their very first potion, a simple cure for boils. Harry and Draco had no trouble finding the ingredients needed for their cauldron. Crabbe and Goyle nearby were struggling to figure out what was what. 

On his other side, Michael and Josh were already stirring their concoction, Josh looked impressed. “So how do you know the difference between Asphodel and Fluxweed?” 

Snape approached Harry and Draco’s desk, almost certainly ignoring Harry’s presence, and looking at the blonde boy next to him. 

“look at the perfect way Malfoy stewed his horned slugs, everybody. Take notes.” 

Draco couldn’t help but smile. It was clear that Snape favoured Draco, by the way he criticised everyone’s potions that wasn’t his. 

Harry didn’t really care who he favoured. He felt uncomfortable in his presence. Even if he didn’t dislike him so, there was something seriously off about him. 

“Professor Snape is probably the only good teacher here.” Draco stated. 

“Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick are alright,” Harry shrugged. 

Draco sniffed his potion and curled up his nose. “It’s a good job we don’t have any boils. Imagine having to drink this...”

Clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing suddenly filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt his partner’s, Seamus', cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Hermione and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You... Granger... why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor." 

“Thanks, Hermione…” said Ron, before his eyes widened and he realized how unfair it was. 

Hermione looked extremely dejected. 

Harry couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. It was unfair how she got the wrong end of the stick. Though Draco seemed to find it funny. 

“I don’t think that’s very fair,” said Harry finally, looking over at his sniggering friend. 

“Who cares. Slytherin is going to win the house cup.” 

Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling along with him. 

Harry looked over at Michael and Josh. To his relief, he saw that he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t laughing. 

* * *

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry remembered that he had to go have tea with Hagrid. 

Draco was talking about wondering when Longbottom would finally be expelled for his stupidity, before hitting Harry’s arm lightly. “Hey, want to go play wizard’s chess? Ever heard of it before?” 

Harry shook his head. “Wizard’s chess?” 

“Yeah… I think muggles have something similar, but wizard’s chess is magic. The pieces move around the board wherever you want them to, and when you check your opponent, it destroys their piece.” 

Harry raised his eyebrows. 

“Let’s go, I think there’s a set in the common room.” 

“I can’t,” Harry said. 

Draco stopped and looked at him. “You can’t?” 

“I got to meet Hagrid.” 

“Oh yeah…” Draco looked disappointed. “Oh well, whatever… let’s go then.” 

“You’re coming?” Harry looked surprised. 

“Yeah. Not like there’s anything else to do. Crabbe and Goyle went off looking for food or something.” 

The two of them made their way towards the exit of the castle, before seeing two students from afar. One of them Harry recognised immediately by his long, red hair. It was Michael. 

The other was much taller and had blonde hair. He figured that was his brother. 

Two others came from around the corner. A girl with black, curly hair and a boy with ash white hair, both also in Slytherin uniforms. 

“Don’t think you can suddenly go around making friends, little brother,” the tall blonde boy said, rather demeaningly. “I don’t know why anyone would even want to be friends with you. You’re an awful person, just like your mother was. A freak.” he hissed, as the two of his friends laughed. 

Harry was strongly reminded of Aunt Petunia. 

Michael didn’t seem to be showing emotion. He looked like he was used to this sort of treatment. 

“Oh well, if you do make friends it's not like they’re going to last for long. Not until they find out who you really are,” Michael’s brother grinned maliciously down at him, “but don’t you worry, your big brother will always be here for you. I’m the only one who will ever care about you. I hope you know that,” he stroked his hair rather fondly before whipping around and walking away, his two minions following after him. 

Harry looked at Draco. Even Draco looked kind of uncomfortable. They walked over to the red haired boy, who looked over at them like nothing just happened.

“Hey,” Harry said. “Are you alright?” 

Michael nodded.

“Why don’t you come meet Hagrid with us,” Harry suddenly said. 

“Oh, it’s… alright,” 

“I insist,” said Draco, to Harry's surprise. 

Michael looked at them, as if he wasn’t sure what to think. 

Harry understood how he felt, he felt like this for most of his life until now. Being told constantly that he was a freak and that something was wrong with him. That nobody could ever possibly like him. 

“Don’t listen to your brother, okay. We’re your friends.” 

It felt somewhat special to receive such a warm smile from the red haired boy, and he finally agreed to join them to Hagrid’s. 

The three of them left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door. Draco didn’t seem to be too impressed. 

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang... back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it. Draco looked around distastefully, but didn’t say a word. 

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Michael and almost knocked him over to the ground. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked. He nuzzled up to the red haired boy, and licked his face, panting eagerly. 

"This is Draco and Michael," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Malfoy, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Draco. By his expression, Harry could tell that he wasn’t quite sure about him.

“Draco is actually really nice, Hagrid.” 

Hagrid nodded and smiled. “Of course, we shouldn’t be going ‘round judging people by their family, eh?” 

“What does that supposed to mean?” Draco raised an eyebrow. 

Hagrid ignored his question. “And Munroes… Ye know, yer older brother is a real good student,” Hagrid said to Michael. Michael looked away. He didn’t say anything. 

“And yer sister, Mari, she was a Ravenclaw prefect, weren’t she? And Derek was a chaser for Gryffindor ‘fore he left. An’ a bloody good one at that.” 

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry and Michael pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Draco though, poked one with his finger, and decided that if he ate it he might get food poisoning. Fang rested his head on his knee, the blonde boy seemed to actually like him. 

Harry and Draco were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her -- Filch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students. And assured him that there was nothing weird about him and he shouldn’t be concerned. 

"But he seemed to really dislike me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"How's yer mother and father?" Hagrid asked Draco, seemingly to be polite. "Remember ‘em at Hogwarts, were quite smart, the both of ‘em."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Draco told Hagrid how his father is the leader of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, information that Hagrid already knew, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

“GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.”

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. 

Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

* * *

As the three Slytherins walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?

“You know, he’s actually not that bad. I like Fang,” Draco said as they walked. “Although these rock cakes are disgusting.” 

Michael looked at Harry. “You were at Gringotts when the break-in happened?” 

Harry nodded. “Hagrid took something out that same day. Something very important for Dumbledore. He wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

“You think they wanted to steal whatever it was that Hagrid took out?” Draco asked, removing the scones from his pockets when they were out of sight of Hagrid’s hut, and throwing them on the floor. 

Harry felt kind of bad for the scones. Hagrid must have put a lot of effort into them. But he couldn’t blame Draco. They were awfully hard and inedible. 

“I’m sure Professor Dumbledore can take care of it, whatever it is,” Michael said, “he’s the most powerful wizard. Even you-know-who was afraid of him. If he has whatever it is that they tried to steal, it’s perfectly safe now.”


	6. Third Floor Corridor

Harry woke up the next morning, feeling like he hadn’t slept at all. He had been having dreams about whatever was in that vault. Professor Snape was trying to find it, but he couldn’t. That was because Dumbledore hid the mysterious object in Professor Quirrel’s turban. 

Snape would approach Harry and interrogate him about where the secret package was. He kept saying he didn’t know, over and over, and eventually, with a flash of green light, he felt himself being pulled out from the depth of his dream. 

Draco was poking Harry with his wand, half sniggering as he came about. He saw the blonde boy standing over him with a smirk, and Michael was next to him, looking at him nonchalantly. 

“What’s going on?” Harry wondered, sitting up in his bed. 

“Someone,” started Draco, “thought it would be funny to draw on your face while you were sleeping…” he was clearly trying not to crack up. But Harry already learned this about Draco, he didn’t have much of a filter. 

Harry got up and quickly went to look in the mirror. His face was covered in colour changing ink. Someone traced his lightning scar and the shape of his glasses around his eyes. They also wrote “superstar Potty Potter” on his cheek. 

Grabbing a towel and the water jug from the window sill, Harry quickly began wiping the marker off his face. He wondered, who would do something like this? 

Draco’s amusement went away almost entirely when he was done. He looked at Michael. “It was your cat that did it.”

“Cheshire would never,” Michael looked defensive. 

Crabbe and Goyle both looked like they had no idea who might have done it. Draco knew they had shared only half a brain between them to try to look innocent if it was them. 

Once Harry got dressed, the five of them made their way to the common room to check the Notice Board. 

Draco read it first, and then cursed under his breath. “We’ve got flying lessons.” 

“That’s good?” said Goyle, looking confused. 

“With Gryffindors…” he added. 

“Not Gryffindors!” Crabbe didn’t look as bothered as he sounded. 

“Whatever… it’s funny to see them lose points,” Draco grinned. 

“Potty Potty Potter! Potty Wee potter!” a voice came from behind them. 

Harry whipped around, seeing that Poltergeist, Peeves, once again. 

He should have known it was him who drew all over his face with his quill. 

They had run-ins with Peeves several times already in the corridors. He enjoyed causing trouble for him wherever he went. Now Harry didn’t feel safe in his own dormitory. 

“How did you get in here?” Draco asked. 

“Why ask such silly questions. Think I wouldn’t figure out the Slytherin password? You really need to think of a better one!” he jeered. 

Just then, one of the two blonde twins came into the common room. Cole De’Claire. 

“What are you doing here, Peeves?”

“Here comes Coooole the arse-hoooole” he fell on the floor with laughter. 

“You shouldn’t even be here,” Cole looked down at him with contempt. “I’m going to tell Bloody Baron,” 

“Okay okay fine I’m going… sheesh… can’t even take a joke.” Peeves huffed. “Watch out Potty Wee Potter! I’ll get youuuu~” with that he disappeared.

Harry sighed with annoyance. “Why can’t he find someone else to pick on.” 

Cole walked over to the bowl of sweets and casually took out almost all of them, stuffing them into his pockets, “well you are famous Harry Potter. Think Peeves will miss an opportunity to mess with you?” he grinned, throwing an acid pop in his mouth. 

Harry looked at Draco and Michael. They could tell he really wasn’t in the mood. 

Draco did talk about flying quite a bit throughout their first term, but only now did they get to hear his apparent passion for it. 

“Do you think it's fair that first years aren’t allowed to join the Quidditch team? I think it’s stupid, personally. Some of us have been practicing since we learned how to walk, it’s really not _that_ hard. See, my father would have bought me the Nimbus 2000 if there was even a chance I could join this year.” 

Harry remembered the Nimbus 2000 he saw in the window of a shop in Diagon Alley. All the kids were looking longingly at it. It did seem like a very nice broom. 

“I used to fly quite high actually, though I always ended up almost crashing into muggle helicopters, or whatever they’re called. The things these muggles think up of is hilarious.” 

Both Harry and Michael would occasionally exchange glances as Draco blabbered on, meanwhile Grabbe and Goyle were looking at him like he was the second coming of Jesus Christ. 

Draco weren’t the only one talking about his flying experiences, though. 

Apparently Seamus Finnigan from Gryffindor spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on his brother Charlie's old broom.

Josh said that he got around everywhere on his broom, got him away from having to be around people apparently. 

Harry heard Neville in Potion’s class saying he had never been on a broom his whole life, because his grandmother never let him near one. For a good reason, Harry thought. 

Hermione seemed very nervous whenever they all talked about it, which Draco pointed out. “Bet that know-it-all is going to fail miserably and fall of her broom…” 

Harry secretly hoped that wouldn’t happen, but still, it was satisfying to see her not knowing what she was doing for once.

Though her lecturing could be heard across the great hall all the way at the Slytherin table. She was reading Quidditch Through the ages, giving out tips to practically everyone who could hear her. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Draco had been quick to notice. His eagle owl, Klaus, brought him more packages which were filled with sweets. He felt kind of bad for Harry and gave him some Cauldron Cakes. 

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things... this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red- oh... " His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "...I’ve forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco stood up all of a sudden, and walked over to the Gryffindor table, snatching the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry jumped to his feet, and so did Ron. The red head was half hoping for a reason to fight Draco, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Draco quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped back to Harry, with a small smirk on his face. “I bet that buffoon's going to forget it somewhere…” 

Harry wished he could say something, it didn’t seem like a very nice thing to do. 

Crabbe and Goyle both laughed. “Good one,” said Crabbe. 

Michael looked over at Neville. Harry could tell he felt a little sorry for him. At least he wasn’t the only one. 

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Draco, and the other Slytherins hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat field on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Gryffindors were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Ron was saying how his brothers, Fred and George Weasley, complained about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, and so did Draco’s. but theirs were some of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, which made both Draco and Harry laugh, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Michael’s broom was hovering between his hand and the ground, after he quietly muttered “up.” 

Maybe you needed to speak loudly. 

Josh looked around, before quickly picking his up. 

To add to Draco’s amusement, Ron’s broom ended up hitting him in the face.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Draco went pink when he was told he'd been doing it wrong for years. When he heard Harry snigger, he glanced over at him. “Shut up.” 

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle... three... two..."

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle... twelve feet... twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and...

WHAM... a thud and a nasty crack, and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy... it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say “Quidditch.” Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins, except for Harry, Michael and Josh, joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Draco, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give it back, Draco," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Draco smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find... how about... up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled. He didn’t know how, but he finally had the courage to stand up to him. Draco leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak. 

Harry grabbed his broom. 

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move... you'll get us all into trouble."

Harry ignored her. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him, and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught; this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Draco in midair. Draco looked stunned.

"Give it back to Neville!" Harry called, "we’re going to get expelled!"

"Oh, really?" said Draco, trying to sneer, but looking worried for a moment.

Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward his friend like a javelin. Draco only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp turn and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"Oh come on… Why do you want to pick on Neville so much?" Harry called.

"And why do you care so much?" Draco shouted back, “It’s just a stupid cheap toy, Harry. Forget about it,” he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down. next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball... wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching... he stretched out his hand... a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor Snape was marching toward them. He got to his feet, trembling.

"Never... in all my time here..."

Professor Snape was almost speechless with shock, "How dare you, boy..."

"It wasn't his fault, Professor-"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil..."

"But Malfoy-"

"That's enough, Mr Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Draco said nothing, though Harry caught sight of his and his friend's gloomy faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor Snape’s wake as he strode toward the castle. 

He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor Snape was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor Snape didn't say a word to him. He opened doors and marched along corridors with Harry trotting miserably behind him. Maybe he was taking him to Dumbledore. He thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps he could be Hagrid's assistant. His stomach twisted as he imagined it, watching Draco and the others becoming wizards, while he stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag. He wanted to blame Draco, but he couldn’t. He chose to go up in the air after all. Did that remembrall really cost him his place here, at Hogwarts?

Professor Snape stopped outside a classroom. He opened the door swiftly. 

"Excuse me, Professor McGonagall, could I borrow Munroe for a moment?"

Harry’s eyes widened. He saw the blonde fifth year stand up, it was Michael’s brother. He remembered him bullying the red haired boy. He gulped. Were they going to do something to him? Even though Snape was a Professor, Harry didn’t think he wouldn’t do something that was against the rules. He really didn’t like Harry. 

“Follow me,” Snape said coldly, and walked off, as the two of them followed. 

Cedric Munroe looked at Harry curiously, which unnerved him, as they went down into the Dungeons, into Snape’s classroom. 

“Cedric Munroe, I think I found you a new Seeker…” 

Harry’s eyes widened. A seeker? 

Cedric Munroe looked at Harry with Judging eyes. “A first year, to replace Terence Higgs?”

“Terence Higgs fell off his broom last year and broke his arm, and therefore cannot compete. Potter, over here, caught a flying object on his first day of flying in a matter of seconds. I saw it with my own two eyes. No arguments, Munroe, this is your new seeker.” 

“Well, alright. If you insist, Professor. I’ll evaluate his skills as soon as. He does seem to be the perfect size for a seeker. Should get him a Nimbus 2000,” the older boy smiled. It wasn’t a particularly warm smile, but he looked pleased. 

Harry let the relief finally kick in. He wasn’t being expelled. But what exactly was a seeker? 

“I’ll speak to Dumbledore and see if we can bend the… “first years can’t play Quidditch” rule…” 

With that, Professor Snape left the classroom. 

“Ever heard of Quidditch?” Munroe enquired in a light tone, “I don’t suspect you have, if the rumours about you living with muggles is true.” 

Harry shook his head. 

“You see, Potter, I’m the captain of the Slytherin team,” he casually put his arm around Harry. “But don’t you worry… I’ll explain all the rules to you later. Now off you go, you little scallywag. Don’t let me keep you from lunch,” he sang merrily and waved Harry off. 

As he walked down the hallway and up out of the Dungeons, Harry thought about the boy, Cedric Munroe. He seemed so charismatic and charming. But he couldn’t get the nasty things he said to Michael out of his head. 

* * *

“A seeker? You gotta be joking me…” Draco said to Harry, as Harry put a piece of steak in his mouth. “You’re like… the youngest seeker in a century, you know that?” there was a tinge of jealousy in his voice. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Harry said with a smile. 

“So you’re on the team with my brother,” Michael muttered. 

Harry glanced over at Michael. He was about to speak, when he noticed Neville was back from the hospital wing. He still had his remembrall. 

Getting up from the Slytherin table, Harry walked over to Neville and presented the glass ball to him. 

Neville looked at Harry hesitantly, before taking it. “T- thank you…” he stammered, terrified of him. Harry didn’t realize he was so scary. 

“What you did back there… was pretty noble,” Ron spoke up. He avoided Harry’s eyes, as he said it. Harry looked at him and smiled. The Gryffindors seemed to regard him with more respect, now. Because it was brave of him to stand up to his friend for what was right. 

Harry went back to his seat, to see Draco’s scowling face. 

“Don’t know why you want to lick their arses… All they ever do is whisper around about how scary and mean you must be because you’re “Malfoy’s best friend”” 

Harry sighed. “Maybe they wouldn’t do that if you were nice to people. You know you can be polite without actually liking someone, right?” 

Michael opened his mouth to say something before Cedric Munroe arrived, shoving him out of the way and sitting next to Harry.

“Your training schedule…” he gave Harry a piece of paper, “starting from next week. Tomorrow night I want you to meet me at the Quidditch field outside so I can explain everything to you. Oh, and meet Vicky and Raphy…” he presented his two friends to Harry. 

“Victoria…” growled the raven haired, pretty girl. 

“Raphael,” corrected the ash haired boy. He had a Russian accent. 

“These two are my chasers. I’m also a chaser. Evalyn and Cole De’Claire are my beaters, its funny because the Gryffindor team also has twins as beaters. They copied us!” he laughed like his joke was funny. “I’m also the head of the theatre club created by Professor Flitwick, haha yes, welcome,” he patted Harry’s arm. 

Harry looked just as confused as Draco did. 

Michael hid his face. It was clear he didn’t really want to associate himself with his brother. 

“Who’s the keeper?” Josh asked, eating a bagel. 

“Marcus Flint. He was proper mad when I took over as Captain, and took his place as a chaser. But what can a fellow like me do, when I’m more talented and popular?” Munroe shrugged. “Isn’t that right, little brother,” he aggressively brought Michael towards him in a choke-hold-type hug. 

“Next year I want to be on the team too,” said Draco. “I’ll replace Marcus Flint if you want. Add new brooms to the mix too, my father will be happy to replace yours with the newest model.” 

“Sold,” said Cedric with a laugh and patted Draco’s shoulder. “Anyway, lets go Vicky. We’ve got work to do,” he walked off, humming some sort of circusy tune.

Michael looked away. Harry patted his shoulder gently. “It’s okay…” 

“My brother is… very flamboyant…”

“We can tell,” Draco said, grinning. “At least I got my place down for next year…” he looked at Harry. The only reason he didn’t resent him for getting the seeker spot in his first year was because he helped him get it. 

Michael tilted his head. “I think I remember something… in the trophy room…” his eyes widened. “Harry… I have to show you something.” 

Harry, Draco, and Michael made their way down into the trophy room. Crabbe and Goyle didn’t want to part with their food to go and look with them, and the three of them were kind of glad they didn’t come. Draco only ever really had friends like Crabbe and Goyle. Mindless followers who didn’t really care about much. But now, he felt like he had friends who didn’t bow down to his feet at every turn, and were actually on his level. Whom he could have good conversations with, and didn’t stare at him like he just spelled out a complex textbook word for word when he spoke.

“Mr Filch made me clean the trophy room after he found me lost in the corridors after hours. Look. I thought I saw your last name somewhere…” Michael pointed at a trophy. 

It was a Gryffindor house cup, and a perpetual trophy. Engraved on one of the silver shields was the name, “James Potter,” followed by “seeker.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. “My dad, he was a seeker too?” he looked at Michael and Draco. 

Draco sighed. “Your father was in Gryffindor…” 

“So? At least he wasn’t in Hufflepuff,” Harry said. 

Draco nodded, “true.” He wandered off to look at the Slytherin trophies. 

Harry turned to Michael, “What if I’m not cut out for this? What if I disgrace my father’s name?” 

“You won’t,” Michael replied. “It’s in your blood. We all saw how you caught the remembrall. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen in Quidditch before.”

Harry felt somewhat comforted by it. He smiled a little, and looked at the time. “Oh no… we’re going to be late to transfiguration. Professor McGonagall will kill us…” 

Draco turned around and suddenly looked worried. “Let’s go then!” 

They made their way up the sets of stairs, when suddenly, they began moving. They weren’t quite used to it just yet, but it became more manageable. Though this time, they moved more than usual. The three of them ran up the steps and soon enough were completely lost. They found themselves on the third floor corridor. 

“We shouldn’t be here,” Michael said, worriedly. 

Just as they were about to leave, the saw Mrs Norris. 

It made Harry jump. “Oh no, this isn’t good. Filch is coming…” Harry grabbed Draco’s robes, who seemed glued to the spot with terror, and ran for it. 

Soon enough they reached a door, and try as he might, Draco couldn’t pull it open. 

“Hang on…” Michael said, “Alohomora.”

The door opened and the three of them ran inside, closing it shut again. 

Harry let out a breath of relief. 

“Where did you learn that spell?” Draco asked, panting slightly. 

“Cedric used to… lock me away in closets and what not…” he didn’t look comfortable talking about this. 

Harry looked over at him. “I’m sorry… he… doesn’t seem to treat you too well…”

Michael shrugged. “It’s fine. You get used to it, to be honest.” 

Harry understood how he felt. 

Draco was tugging on Harry’s sleeves. 

“He doesn’t… actually hurt you though, right?” Harry wondered. 

Michael looked rather pale. He finally shook his head. It didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it. 

Draco kept on pulling on Harry’s sleeve annoyingly. Harry turned around “what?” 

Draco had a look of absolute terror on his face. He was pointing with a trembling hand. 

Harry and Michael turned to look where he was pointing. 

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob... between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.

All of a sudden, a loud scream erupted from Draco’s mouth. Michael must have realized the gravity of their situation, because he grabbed Draco and forcefully put his hands over his mouth. Harry managed to open the door again frantically, and the three of them bolted out of the room, shutting the door behind them and locking it from inside out. 

Michael was shocked, but not as shocked as Draco was. He’d gotten so pale that Harry thought he might throw up. 

“W- what on earth was that ugly thing?” the blonde boy muttered in distress. 

Harry and Michael had to quickly drag him out of the 3rd floor corridor and down the steps, because he was experiencing some sort of fear paralysis, and they didn’t want to be caught by Filch again.

By the time they made it to Transfiguration, they were most certainly late. 

Professor McGonagall took 10 points from Slytherin as they took their seats. Draco still looked like he was seeing the three headed dog over and over in his mind.

Harry leaned into Michael and whispered. “Looks like we’ve found where that package from vault 713 is hidden.”

Michael nodded in agreement. 


	7. Halloween Troll

The next morning, Harry found that Draco was himself again, and was sort of relieved, because that dog seemed to have really frightened him. 

On their way to breakfast they talked about what they saw.

The three of them decided not to tell Crabbe and Goyle. It would have been too hard to explain to them what really happened. Besides they wouldn’t get the importance of the matter and probably go and tell someone by accident. 

“Do you really think that beast was hiding something?” Michael muttered. 

“Of course it was…” Harry looked confused. “But there was nothing else in the room.” 

Draco pitched in, “it was standing on some sort of trap door. If you looked properly you’d have seen it.” 

“We were too busy looking at it’s heads…” Harry muttered. He was surprised Draco noticed, in the state that he was in. 

“Whatever is in that trap door must be very valuable. Otherwise why would the Headmaster put such a dangerous beast in a school full of children.” Michael said quietly. 

“What are we talking about?” a girl’s voice suddenly interrupted the three, and when they looked to see whom it belonged to, they saw Pansy Parkinson. 

“None of your business,” said Draco. 

“Watch who you’re talking to, Malfoy,” the girl retorted. “I saw you up in the third floor corridor yesterday. I saw Potter and Munroe carrying you down the stairs looking like you’re about to faint.” 

“Shut up, Parkinson.” 

She feigned fainting, following it up with laughter. “Malfoy is sissy boy!”

“Be quiet, mutt-face.” Draco retorted. 

Pansy gasped. “Wow, how rude. You better watch it, Malfoy…” she began to walk away. 

Draco shook his head and looked at Harry and Michael. “Let’s go sit somewhere else. She stinks of rotten eggs.” 

The three of them, followed by Crabbe and Goyle, took their seats in the great hall. 

That’s when the mail flew in. Draco got another package from his mother, and a letter from his father, this time. Harry watched him open up his gift to find a brand new quill. This one looked even more expensive than the last one. 

Michael didn’t seem to get anything either, so Harry didn’t feel like he was the only one. 

Though he barely noticed that an owl appeared carrying a long, thin package. Only when it was dropped right in front of Harry, did he see that it was for him. 

He quickly took the note that came with it, and opened it up. “For Harry Potter - Do not open in the great hall” 

Only his name was written on the note, followed up with an instruction. Harry couldn’t find anything on the parcel or the note to tell him who it was from. He decided to follow the instructions, and wait till they got out. 

It was obvious this was a broomstick, by the way the package was shaped. Draco looked even more jealous than he was when he found out that Harry was the seeker. 

“I wonder what broom this is,” he looked at the packaging. “Who would buy you a broom and not sign their name?” 

Harry shrugged. He looked to where the teachers were having their breakfasts. Professor Snape was looking right at Harry. Harry felt his scar burning once more, and looked away quickly. 

Once they were back in their common room, with a few minutes to spare before their first class, Harry opened up his package and found a brand new, shiny Nimbus 2000. 

Draco looked at Harry, “I suppose it would be fair if you let me ride it, I mean I’m the reason you have it in the first place.” 

“Sure,” Harry said. He felt honoured someone would send him this. It looked amazing. 

Michael wasn’t so sure though, “this feels wrong… I don’t get why someone would send this to you without telling you who they are. What if there’s something wrong with it?” 

“Don’t be such a buzz kill…” Draco groaned “when’s your first training session, Harry?” 

“Tonight,” said Harry. “Cedric Munroe said I have to meet him on the Quidditch field.” 

The day dragged on as Harry kept thinking about his Nimbus 2000. He couldn’t wait to go to training practice. Lessons dragged by as he kept thinking about his broom, which was hidden under his bed. Draco couldn’t stop talking about it either. He kept asking Harry when he could try his broomstick, saying he needed to see how good it was before getting his father to buy it for him. 

As the time for his first training session drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. Held never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for the captain, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling -- he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.

“Potter!” came a voice from below. It was Cedric Munroe.

Harry turned his broom and descended with ease, stepping onto the grass below. 

Munroe brought out a big wooden crate. Harry wondered what was in there. 

“I see what Professor Snape meant now, you’re indeed very talented. A natural, I must say. I wonder what kind of actor you’d be if you joined my theatre club…” he gave a small, light-hearted laugh and opened the box. Inside were four different sized balls. 

“Seven players on each side, three of them are chasers, two are beaters, one’s a keeper and one’s a seeker.” he explained very quickly. Harry tried his best to keep up. 

“This ball,” he lifted up one of the balls from the crate, “is a Quaffle. Chasers try to throw them into those hoops up there. You get ten points for each score.” He put it back in the crate. Harry nodded, “so it’s kind of like basketball…” 

“Basketball?” Munroe looked confused.

“It’s a muggle sport…” 

Munroe laughed. “Haha, muggles and their weird sport names…” 

He pointed at the other two balls. “I’m not even going to let those out. But they’re called bludgers. They’re very heavy and fly all around the field trying to hit you, so you have to dodge them if you want to live.” he said rather light heartedly. “The beaters use those bats to beat the bludgers around. A good Slytherin motto is that if the bludgers hit the opponent players, we’re doing it right.” he laughed once more as Harry looked a bit uneasy. 

“Has anyone… died before?” 

Munroe flipped his hand, “Oh no no, not recently at least. Though people get injured all the time, it’s nothing much. You might end up with a concussion or a broken arm.” 

Harry swallowed nervously. 

Munroe removed one final ball and showed it to Harry. 

Harry took it, and opened his palm. It was a pretty, golden ball. “I like this,” he muttered with a smile. 

“Well, you like it until you actually have to catch it.” 

Harry watched in amazement as the little golden ball sprouted wings. It flew a few inches above his hand, before quickly zooming away. 

Munroe stared at Harry. “What… go on, catch it…” he waved his arm dramatically. 

Harry grasped his broom and got on, flying up in the air, squinting to try and see where the snitch has gone. It was harder to see since it was getting dark, but Harry managed to get a glimpse of it from afar. 

Munroe watched for several minutes as Harry flew around the pitch with ease and elegance. 

It really didn’t take him very long to catch the snitch. He lowered himself once more, stepping on the ground and showing the snitch to his team captain. 

“I’m impressed!” he said. Harry wasn’t quite sure if Munroe thought he was acting and this was some kind of movie plot, because all of his actions and words seemed so dramatic. 

“Well done, Potter. You did it! We have the best seeker in the world, yes we do! Ladies and gentlemen give it up for Harry Potter! Yes thank, you thank you,” he bowed to an audience of nobody, as Harry watched, perplexed. 

They went back to the Castle. Harry lied, telling Munroe he had to go and talk to Professor Snape about something, just so he didn’t have to walk back to the common room with him. He was so grandiose and over the top. Maybe if he didn’t know how he treated his brother, he wouldn’t mind him too much. But he did know, and if it wasn’t for Quidditch, he wouldn’t have anything to do with him. 

* * *

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice.

Harry ended up with Josh. Draco was with Michael and Crabbe was with Pansy. Goyle laughed at his direction, Draco was sure she’d bite his head off if he made the wrong move. 

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too -- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult. Harry and Josh swished and flicked, but nothing happened. The feather hadn’t moved an inch. “It’s like me at 10 am in the morning. Still sleeping and refusing to go up out of bed for class,” Josh said sleepily. Harry reckoned he hadn’t closed an eye all night again. 

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Draco flicked his wand, but forgot to swish. At one point, he almost took Michael’s eye out. 

“Watch me,” Pansy cleared her throat and said, “Wingardium Leviosa!” 

She swished and flicked, and her feather barely hovered above the table before falling back down.

“Close enough!” Professor Flitwick said. “Just add a little more flick to your wand, miss Parkinson.” 

Michael swished and flicked his wand. Instead of going up, the feather flew sideways, right into Pansy’s face. 

Draco laughed. “Good one…” he looked at Professor Flitwick. “Michael’s done it, sir, look it’s all the way over there. Are you sure it’s a levitation spell, and not an ugly troll magnet enchantment?” he laughed, as Crabbe and Goyle laughed with him. 

Flitwick blinked, looking at Pansy, who seemed to be even more annoyed by this point. “It’s supposed to go up!” she snapped. 

“Alright, alright,” Professor Flitwick put his arms up. “Well done everybody. You can’t expect yourself to get it right straight away. But with practice you’ll get there. Class is over now, you can go.” he waved his arms. It was obvious he wanted the Slytherins gone as soon as possible. 

Harry caught up with Michael and Draco, whom was still sniggering at his own joke. 

They passed by some Gryffindors on their way to History of Magic. Harry saw Ron laughing with a few of his friends, and then Hermione behind them, who looked distressed. 

She walked rather quickly, her head bowed, past them, and didn’t realize that she would be bumping straight into Draco. 

“Hey, watch where you’re going, know-it-all Granger,” he shoved her out of his way. 

She dropped her books. Harry and Michael looked at Draco with wide eyes. 

Harry never seen Draco quite this mean and aggressive. 

Hermione quickly picked up her books and ran off down the hall. 

“Was that really necessary?” asked Harry, as Draco straightened his robes and walked off to his next lesson, ignoring his question. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Harry looked at Michael, and Michael shrugged. “I think Pansy really got on his nerves,” he muttered. 

“Come on,” Harry said. They picked up the pace to their next lesson. “I don’t think Draco is a bad person, but he can be quite mean sometimes. To shove Hermione like that, it’s not okay.” 

* * *

They had History of Magic, followed by Potions. Though Hermione was nowhere to be seen. 

When Draco wasn’t looking, Pansy added an extra pair of toad legs to his potion, and he ended up growing some sort of foam monster from his cauldron. 

To get her back for this, he decided to swap her transfiguration instruction parchment to a different one altogether, then sitting back and watching as she turned her matchstick into a gooey mess that wouldn’t come off of her or her belongings as hard as she may try. 

The quarrel between the two was rather entertaining for Harry and Michael. Though they dared not show it. Pansy Parkinson was the scariest Slytherin in their year. 

When they went to the great hall for the halloween feast, they were intrigued by the decorations all around them. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Rumours soon reached the Slytherin table, that Hermione Granger was locked up all day in the girl’s bathroom, crying. Harry was just putting a baked potato on his plate, when someone from across the table told them. 

Harry and Michael looked at Draco, whom looked like he had no idea why that could be the case. 

“You shouldn’t have shoved her back then, it was really mean,” said Harry. 

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do…” Draco piled some roast beef on his plate. 

“We’re not…” Harry began. 

“Draco,” said Michael all of a sudden, “you know you can always talk to us if something’s weighing on your mind, right?” 

Draco paused and looked at them. Before he could reply, all of a sudden, Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll!!! In the dungeons… thought you ought to know."

He fainted.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Draco was freaking out the most between the three of them. Even Crabbe and Goyle seemed nonchalant as they took all the food they could with them.

Gemma Farley was rounding up the Slytherins. “Come on everyone, follow me. Come on, I’m the prefect.” she ushered everyone after her. 

Draco, Harry and Michael followed along, before Harry stopped all of a sudden. “Wait… Hermione…” 

“Oh come on,” Draco looked panicked. “Let’s get out of here…” 

“No, we have to go find her,” Harry declared. 

Michael nodded, “It’s kind of your fault she’s in danger.” 

Draco realized he didn’t have much of a choice. They snuck into the corridor that lead to the Girls’ bathrooms. Someone was following them. 

Harry whipped around to see that it was Ron. 

“What are you doing here, Weasley?” Draco snarled. 

“Can ask you the same thing…” Ron frowned. “Hermione is down here with the troll and it’s all my fault.” 

“I thought it was my fault,” Draco looked at Harry, “guess I’m in the clear.” 

“Evidently, it's both of your faults,” Harry suddenly said. “So let's go find her before the troll does something to her.” 

“There’s someone there,” Michael grabbed Draco’s robe, pulling him back behind the corner of the corridor.

Harry leaned over a little just so he could see what was going on. Snape was in the hallway, limping. They quickly hid from view again. Ron whispered. “He’s supposed to be in the dungeons right? What’s he doing up here?” 

Harry shrugged. 

“I think he’s gone…” Draco muttered. 

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Ron held up his hand.

"Can you smell something?"

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

Draco pinched his nose in disgust. “It’s probably your hand-me-down robes, Weasley…”

Ron was about to snap back, but then they heard it. A low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Michael pointed. At the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The key’s in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Ron nervously.

“No it isn’t,” Michael said. 

“Why not?” Draco whispered. 

A loud scream answered for him. It was Hermione. 

Ron was the first to barge in, followed by Harry and the others. 

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to his friends. Michael quickly seized a tap, and threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Michael. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, you ugly brute!" yelled Draco from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Draco instead, giving Michael time to run around it. Draco’s face sank in pure horror when the troll looked at him. His knees wobbled and he ended up frozen just like Hermione. 

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at them, trying to pull them both toward the door with Michael’s help, but neither of them couldn't move, they were still flat against the wall, mouth open in terror. 

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand, and not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over, and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it… dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry, I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh, that’s disgusting," Draco murmured, stepping forward nervously to take a look at it. He couldn’t help but snigger, “it looks just like Parkinson, don’t you think?” 

Harry wiped his wand on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. 

A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at them. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. 

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you all in your dormitories?"

A small voice came from the shadows. 

“Please, professor… They were looking for me,” she said. 

“Miss Granger?” Professor McGonagall looked shocked. 

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"I went looking for the troll because I- I thought I could deal with it on my own... you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Malfoy and… this other boy distracted it, then Potter stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

"Well, in that case... " said Professor McGonagall, staring at all of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Ron was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left. 

Professor McGonagall turned to the others. “Slytherin students going out of their way to rescue a Gryffindor? I’d be more inclined to believe I was a muggle. It was very dangerous and foolish of you, but you demonstrated heroism and teamwork. With your rivals, at that,” she looked from Ron to Draco. 

“Five points to each of you. Now off you go to your common rooms. Dumbledore will be informed of this.” 

Ron didn’t really say anything to them, leaving for his common room as soon as they left the bathroom. Harry, Draco and Michael went down to the dungeons to their common room. 

Draco looked worn out for all the times that he’s been frightened this month. “Can’t believe we saved Granger from Gryffindor… Alongside stupid Weasley…” he said in a low voice. “And almost died in the process.” 

“If you weren’t so horrible to her, she may not have needed saving,” Harry said. “She stuck up for us and took the blame on herself. And we got points for it for Slytherin. I don’t think her and Ron are so bad.” 

“Has anyone else noticed this, or was it just me,” Michael spoke up all of a sudden. Harry looked at him, as he brushed his red hair from his face. 

“What?” Draco looked at him. 

“Professor Snape was limping.” 

* * *

The three of them got back into their common room and joined everyone else who was finishing off the food from the feast. Harry kept thinking about Professor Snape now. Why would he be limping? 

“Do you think Professor Snape tried to get past the three headed dog?” asked Harry, looking at his two friends. 

“Why would Professor Snape do that?” Draco asked. Clearly he didn’t want to see his favourite teacher in a bad light. 

“I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about him,” he looked down, “besides, it adds up. Someone clearly wants whatever’s in that package because they tried to steal it from Gringotts.” 

“It’s really none of our business though, is it?” Draco looked at Harry. “Why can’t the teachers deal with it.” 

It was a good point, Harry thought. But what if the teachers didn’t know? What if something terrible was about to happen? 


	8. Quidditch

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Slytherin versus Gryffindor.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Cedric Munroe had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse; people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

The Slytherins had been proper proud that Potter was on their team, daunting Gryffindors that they had no chance of winning, and that Slytherin would end up on top once again. 

Harry was lucky Michael was so on top of his homework, and let him copy, because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to make it, with all the Quidditch practice and lessons all at once. First years don’t have to worry about as much as Harry was worrying about, since they’re technically not allowed to join the teams. 

Draco was flaunting himself to be the best friend of Potter, the youngest seeker in a century, and bragging to the other Slytherin first years about how he already had his spot next year as the new keeper. Though he kept himself more occupied with extra Potions lessons with Snape, which he claimed he used as an excuse to find out more about what he was up to, but Harry knew it wasn’t the case. He couldn’t blame his friend for wanting to learn more about something that really interested him. 

Harry got along with his Quidditch team, Cedric Munroe was still grandiose as ever, but Cole and Evalyn De’Claire were alright. Meyrose and Volkov didn’t really talk to him much, but he felt that they treated him respectfully. Marcus Flint was another story. He didn’t seem to like Harry very much. He would throw dirty looks at him, and had a permanent scowl on his face. Harry couldn’t wait till Draco took his place next year. He saw why nobody liked him. 

People saw Slytherin as a house full of thugs and bullies, but Harry didn’t really see it that way. Sure, there were bullies in his house, like Flint, but they seemed to be disliked even here. 

Slytherin has gotten a very bad reputation over the years. Producing most of the dark witches and wizards, and all. A lot of Slytherins were quite ambitious and competitive, which came across as big headed and mean. And the Quidditch season just amped up that quality even more. 

Harry tried not to get himself involved in Slytherin mobs shouting at Gryffindors and other houses that they were going to beat their sorry butts once again this year, but he understood that feeling of wanting to be on top. He wanted to win his first Quidditch match. He wouldn’t let his house down. 

Harry had to sit and listen to a quiet, monotonous lecture from Michael, about how Seekers tend to get into most accidents, but that he shouldn’t worry because people rarely ever die. 

Draco was receiving letters from his father telling him that he will buy him a broom next year since a newer model will probably come out by then. He also got another package from his mother, and gave it to Harry. “She writes this is for you,” Draco said. “Wishes you luck for your first Quidditch match.” 

Harry’s eyes widened as he took the package. It was rather heavy and was in the shape of a book. When he opened, he read, “Quidditch Through the Ages.” 

Harry looked amazed, “Thank you,” he said. “I really appreciate it…” 

“I’ll write her telling her you liked it,” Draco dipped his quill in some ink. 

Harry opened up the book, fascinated to learn more about the sport he’d be playing. If only he had enough time to read it all before his match began. 

* * *

The day before his Quidditch match, Harry took his new book outside with him, and sat down on a bench with Michael and Draco, opening it up so he could read it to them. 

“What you got there, Potter?” 

Harry whipped around. It was Snape. He was staring at him coldly. 

“I- its a-”

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. 

“It’s not a library book,” Harry quickly said.

Draco nodded. 

“Very well…” Snape dragged out his vowels. With that, he limped away. 

“Why does he look for any reason he can get to get me into trouble?” Harry looked at his friends. 

Draco shrugged. “I see what you meant about the limping…” 

“And I hope it’s really hurting him,” Harry added. 

Draco smirked a bit. 

* * *

The Slytherin common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Draco, and Michael sat together next to a window. Michael was checking Harry and Draco’s Charms homework for them, as Draco told Harry about all his favourite Quidditch champions. 

Harry suddenly realized that he forgot his Quidditch Through the Ages in Potions.

He thought he could probably wait till tomorrow, but he felt restless. He wanted to read it, to take his mind off his nerves. 

“I forgot my book in Potions,” Harry said, “I’ll be right back.” 

He made his way down to the classroom and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps his book was still in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside, and a horrible scene met his eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but-

"POTTER!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped.

"I just wondered if I could have my book back."

"GET OUT! OUT!"

Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. He sprinted back upstairs.

"Did you get it?" Draco asked as Harry joined them. "What's wrong?"

In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him... he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

“I’m sure he had a good reason for it,” Draco replied. “He wouldn’t betray Dumbledore would he?” 

“How are we supposed to know that?” Michael said, “I know he’s your favourite teacher, but do you really know him past his favouritism for you?” 

Harry nodded. Draco rolled his eyes. “Well what do you expect us to do about it? It’s not any of our business. Besides, it's Quidditch season. How about you concentrate on winning.” 

It was difficult for Harry to get to sleep that night. He kept thinking about Snape’s leg. And the Quidditch match, and he wanted his book back too. Michael’s cat, cheshire, was sleeping at his legs, which wasn’t too uncommon. It was kind of comforting, though. Harry was jealous of how easily he slept. 

* * *

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," muttered Michael, pushing a small plate gently towards him.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," sang Cedric Munroe who was sitting opposite. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

Harry wasn’t sure if it was what he said or his lighthearted laugh that followed that freaked him out the most. 

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Draco and Michael joined Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, Pike, and the other Slytherins in the East Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner. It said Potter for President, and Pike, who was good at drawing, had done a large Slytherin snake underneath. 

The Gryffindors opposite them on the other end of the field also drew their own tacky banner. Draco pointed and laughed at it, nudging Michael with his elbow. “What a joke. Gryffindors actually think they stand a chance this year,” he wiped a tear. 

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their emerald Quidditch robes (Gryffindor would be playing in red).

Cedric Munroe made a grand gesture to get everyone’s attention. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” he threw his arms out loudly. 

Harry wasn’t the only one feeling unnerved. He didn’t think it would be the case, but his two best friends were the most annoyed out of everyone else in the room. Well, Meyrose was. Volkov looked like he was falling asleep. 

“Good luck everybody!” Munroe finally finished up his speech about friendship and teamwork and knocking Gryffindors off their brooms, and spread his arms out dramatically. “It’s time, enter stage left!” 

They followed their flamboyant captain out onto the field, whom was soaking up the attention, claps and cheers from the crowd around them. He held open his arms and bowed several times. Harry thought he was going to be sick with nerves. 

That was until he saw the banner that the Slytherins made for him. “Potter for President.” His heart skipped a beat. This lifted his mood, and made him feel a little better. He couldn’t help but smile. 

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Keeper, Marcus Flint. He heard stories of him shoving Hufflepuffs off their brooms. 

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor... what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too..."

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

Lee Jordan from Gryffindor, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall. 

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve... back to Johnson and... no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Cedric Munroe gains the Quaffle and off he goes… Munroe flying like an eagle up there... he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle... that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and… OUCH… that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger... Quaffle taken by the Slytherins... that's Victoria Meyrose speeding off toward the goal posts, but she's blocked by a second Bludger… sent her way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which... nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes... she's really flying... dodges a speeding Bludger... the goal posts are ahead... come on, now, Angelina… Keeper Flint dives... misses... GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Harry punched the air in disappointment, as the Gryffindors burst into cheering and applause. 

He heard Meyrose somewhere nearby shouting, “Flint is totally useless!” 

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid," Michael said, and squeezed closer to Draco to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

A few Slytherins looked at Hagrid distastefully, but they didn’t dare to say a word. They seemed to be terrified of the giant. 

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, not noticing the looks he was getting, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"No," said Draco bitterly. "And we’re already losing."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Cedric Munroe’s game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Munroe had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to shake off his nerves. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Cole De’Claire came chasing after it.

"You alright, Potter?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Angelina Johnson. 

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Volkov ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the... wait a moment... was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Raphael Volkov dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Gryffindor Seeker, Jonathan Crowe, had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch. All the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Crowe, he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead... he put on an extra spurt of speed… 

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Slytherin’s below; a bludger hit the end of Harry’s broom, and he spun off course, holding on for dear life.

This must have distracted Jonathan Crowe, because he too lost sight of the snitch once again. 

“After the luck of the bludger hitting the Slytherin seeker, Potter, off course-”

“Jordan!” warned McGonagall. 

“After the… bludger… hit the Slytherin seeker off course, which is unfortunate, Gryffindor takes possession of the Quaffle once more…” 

Harry cursed under his breath. They had to pick the most biased commentator. 

“Whomever decided to put that stupid Gryffindor up there should be fired,” Draco scowled with annoyance. “GO ON HARRY!” he then proceeded to yell. 

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Slytherin goal-posts, he had half a mind to ask Munroe to call time-out, and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession, Flint saves the Quaffle, passes Meyrose, passes Munroe, hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose... only joking, Professor... Slytherins score... A no..."

The Slytherins were cheering. Draco couldn’t help but laugh at Cedric Munroe’s demise, despite him being in his house. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have..."

Draco’s smile faded as he looked towards where Harry was. Michael turned pale. 

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when the bludger hit it?" Blaise whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic. A bludger can’t do somethin’ like that."

At these words, Michael seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, he started looking at where the teachers sat.

"What are you doing?" enquired Draco, his face had gone pale too.

"I knew it," Michael muttered, "Professor Snape... look."

Draco grabbed the binoculars rather harshly. 

Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something… jinxing the broom," said Michael.

"What do we do?" Draco seemed rather panicked all of a sudden. 

“I’ll deal with it…” 

Before Draco could say another word, Michael had disappeared. Draco turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the De’Claires flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good - every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Victoria Meyrose seized the Quaffle and scored five times for Slytherin without anyone noticing.

Michael had fought his way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; he didn't even stop to say sorry as he knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, he crouched down, pulled out his wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from his wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told him he had done his job. He snuck away, as Snape put the fire out with his foot angrily, before making his way back to the Slytherin rows. 

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back onto his broom.

"Goyle, you can look," Draco said with a laugh. Goyle had been covering his eyes as Crabbe was patting his back. 

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick... he hit the field on all fours, coughed, and something gold fell into his hand...

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, Professor McGonagall, he nearly swallowed it," Wood, the Gryffindor captain, was still protesting twenty minutes later, but it made no difference. Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still announcing the results in a disappointed tone. Slytherin had won. 

Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Draco and Michael. 

"It was Professor Snape," Michael was explaining, "Draco and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you. He definitely sent you that broom, no doubt."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

The three students looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.

"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?" Draco said with an uncomfortable tone. 

"Yeah... he's mine… bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year... I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"Why would he try to kill Harry though?" asked Draco solemnly. 

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed his mind about Snape.

"What other explanation could there be? Why would he be muttering whilst all this was going on. He wasn’t even blinking,” Michael muttered. “Plus Harry told us he saw Professor Snape showing his wound to Mr Filch. He knows Harry’s on to him.” 

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh... yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel-"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

Draco huffed.“More importantly... who calls their terrifying three headed dog Fluffy? Just wait until my father hears about this…” 


	9. Christmas - The Mirror of Erised

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again. Harry and Michael had to convince Draco not to tell his father what had happened.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Slytherin common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy slowly, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

Harry looked down. That hit him rather nastily in his chest. 

“Oh, sorry,” Draco said, stirring his cauldron. 

“No, you’re right,” Harry muttered. 

“Maybe I can write mother and father and ask them if you could come along.” 

“No, honestly, it’s alright,” Harry smiled. “I like it at Hogwarts, so I don’t mind. Besides Michael is staying too.” 

Professor Snape had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry and Michael had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had.

Draco looked over at Michael, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish. “Why are you staying?” 

The red haired boy looked up at them. “Brother’s just got his nose fixed from the Quidditch match, you would have found it funny to see him wailing in pain,” he glanced at Draco, “he’s going back home for the holidays.” 

“Ah,” Harry understood. 

Draco didn’t. “And how does that answer my question?”

“I don’t want to go back with Cedric. I rather stay here.” 

“Whatever,” Draco sighed, looking at Crabbe and Goyle, “looks like I’ll be taking the train with these two idiots…” 

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Harry asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Harry."

Ron was trying to get past the tree, following his two twin brothers, Fred and George. 

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Draco's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to save some extra money by staying at Hogwarts, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave, I suppose."

Ron growled. “What’s your problem, Malfoy?” 

“Don’t think that because we saved Granger together that we’re suddenly besties,” he looked at Harry, “Remember how heroic Weasley was, saving his girlfriend from the big bad troll,” he laughed. 

Ron dived at Draco just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Draco’s robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hermione, who was just making her way through behind the tree. "Malfoy was insulting his family," she crossed her arms. 

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Miss Granger," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Harry followed Draco, who was sneering devilishly. “Did you see his face, Harry? Even that stupid girlfriend of his couldn’t save him...”

“That was kind of mean,” Harry replied. 

Draco’s smile faced. “Do you always have to be such a downer?” he strode off all of a sudden. 

Harry stopped and looked at Michael with a sigh. “We have to apologise to Ron…”

Michael nodded.

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the both of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree… put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

“We should have plenty of time now to catch up with your school work, and research Nicholas Flamel.” 

"Listen here... I've told yeh... drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who he is, that's all," said Michael.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere... just give us a hint... I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin', said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," Harry declared, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They tried to find his name through countless books, but to no avail. Both Harry and Michael swore they heard the name somewhere before. But it just wasn’t coming to mind. 

As Michael was scanning through a book named “Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century,” Harry walked over to the restricted section. He wondered if it could be hidden in there. 

You had to have a signed permission slip from one of the teachers to get in, and Harry couldn’t think of a good enough excuse to ask for one. 

These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What are you looking for, boy?"

"Nothing," said Harry.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.

"You'd better get out, then. Go on... out!"

Neither of them thought it was a good idea to ask Madam Pince who Nicholas Flamel was. They couldn’t risk Snape finding out they were onto him. 

They had been looking for two weeks now, ever since they heard his name. But they needed time to look properly without Madam Pince breathing down their neck. 

Harry asked Draco if he could ask his parents. Though Draco has been in a fowl mood ever since his fight with Ron, and didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with it. 

* * *

Once the holidays began, both Harry and Michael were enjoying themselves too much to think about Nicholas Flamel. There was so much to do around the castle, and it was pretty empty since most students had loving families to go home to. It was also Michael’s birthday, and him and Harry celebrated in their dormitory, eating sweets and cupcakes that his sister Mari sent him. 

He was teaching Harry how to play wizard’s chess with a set that came with his sweets, when he noticed Ron make his way into the great hall. 

They both got up and approached the red head. Ron, for a moment, thought he might be antagonised, but soon realized that Harry and Michael had no ill intentions. 

“Hey, just wanted to apologise about Draco. We don’t exactly know why he’s acting like this, but he’s been rather agitated for weeks. Don’t take it too personally okay…” 

Michael nodded. “Come play with us. I’ve been teaching Harry wizard’s chess.” 

Ron looked at them a while, not sure what to say. He wasn’t sure if it was because they were Slytherins, but Ron hesitated. Maybe he thought it might be some kind of a prank. 

“A- alright then,” Ron said, walking over with them to play chess. 

He played against both Harry and Michael, and then watched them play, giving them tips and pointing out mistakes. Ron was extremely good at wizarding chess. Even Michael was impressed. He showed him how to trap the king into checkmate, how to use different strategies and tricks. Harry proved himself to be totally useless at wizard’s chess. Michael on the other hand, was soon head to head with Ron, thanks to his help. 

They found themselves a hobby over the holidays with their new Gryffindor friend. After breakfast they’d get together to play a game of wizard’s chess. They learned a bit about Ron’s family too. He talked about how big it was, and how it was a lot of fun sometimes. Harry wished he had a family like that. 

They thought if Draco found out about their friendship, he’d be livid. But most Slytherins went home to their parents, so there was no one there to judge them. 

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke up early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas," said Michael sleepily, stroking his cat, Cheshire, as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.

"You, too," said Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

“Yeah,” Michael muttered, picking up some of his own gifts off the floor. 

Harry took the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was “To Harry, from Hagrid.”

Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it. It sounded a bit like an owl. It made Michael smile. 

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," said Harry.

Michael was fascinated by the fifty pence.

"So strange" he said, "What shape... This is muggle money?"

"You can keep it," said Harry, laughing at how pleased Michael was. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle… so who sent these?"

Michael shrugged. After opening his presents from his sister, brother and his father, he seemed to have the exact same packaged present as Harry did. 

Harry opened the package to find a note, alongside a very fancy looking goblet and a few magical sweets. It read, 

“To Harry Potter, 

Draco informed us of the fact that you probably won’t be getting many gifts from your muggle carers. This isn’t much, but we hope that you’ll enjoy drinking from it,”

It was signed, “Mr and Mrs Malfoy.” 

Harry smiled. “It’s so kind of them,” he looked at Michael, whom was holding a pretty, silver dagger. He also got some sweets with his. 

“What did your note say?” 

“It just said Draco wanted me to have something too,” he looked just as grateful as Harry did. “This is is so beautiful. His parents are so caring...” 

Harry agreed. He felt like he wasn’t worthy of drinking from such a noble looking cup.

There was one more package under Harry’s bed. He fished it out to find it to be very light. 

“I wonder who this is from,” Harry muttered. He wasted no time unwrapping it. 

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds.

Michael’s eyes widened. “Could that be…” he paused, putting his dagger on his bed. 

“What?” Harry looked at him.

“Put it on,” Michael muttered, as Harry paused before quickly doing just that. 

“Oh, it is…” Michael said slowly. 

“What?” Harry still looked at him confused.

“Look down.”

Harry looked down at his body… except… his body wasn’t there. He couldn’t see it, it was gone. “What is this?” he said in shock. 

“An invisibility cloak,” Michael replied, looking just as surprised. “I’ve heard there’s only one of these in existence. It was in an old fairy tale book I think. I forgot what it was about though.” 

“But who could have sent this to me?” he asked once more. “Could this be from Professor Snape like the broom was? What if it’s cursed?” 

“Something’s on the floor,” Michael pointed. It was a note.

Harry quickly picked it up and read it. 

He didn’t recognise the writing. It was definitely different from the one sent with the Nimbus 2000. 

“Your father left this in my possession before he died.

It is time it was returned to you.

Use it well.

A Very Merry Christmas to you.”

Harry looked at Michael. “This belonged to my father?” 

Michael looked at the note. He smiled. “There’s no way this was written by Professor Snape.” 

There was no signature on the note, but Harry had a good feeling about it. 

Josh walked along the dormitory, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Harry quickly put the cloak away, as he passed by them and smiled, “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas,” said Michael, and Harry quickly said the same. 

“Wait, Josh… you actually managed to get some sleep?” Michael looked surprised. 

“Nope, just going to…” he got a drink from the water jug and went back to bed. 

Harry and Michael smiled at each other. 

This was by far the best Christmas so far, Harry never had so many presents in his life. 

Christmas dinner was certainly the best he ever had, too. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce. Harry drank from his brand new goblet, and found that it turned water into anything he wanted it to. He opted for Coca-cola, since Dursley hardly ever let him drink it. 

There were stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Michael and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harry and Michael spent the afternoon with the Weasleys, having a furious snowball fight. Michael mainly stayed on a bench, reading, but Harry had a fantastic time. 

Soon they went back to their common room, to warm up by the fire, and play wizard’s chess with Harry’s new set. He ended up losing, but he didn’t deny that it was a lot of fun.

Even Josh lost to Michael, after he learned all he could from Ron. 

Ron was brilliant. 

It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it. 

Harry took his cloak out from underneath his bed. His father's... this had been his father's. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.

He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.

Use it well.

Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Harry glanced at Michael’s bed, his curtain was slightly open, and he could see him sleeping peacefully. Should Harry wake him? Something held him back… his father's cloak... he felt that this time, the first time, he wanted to use it alone.

He crept out of the dormitory, up the stairs, across the common room, and through the door. 

Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked.

Harry entered the library. It was dark and eerie, and completely deserted. 

Harry made his way to the restricted section, and looked to see if there was a book that could lead him to know more about Nicholas Flamel. 

This section was very creepy. There were books covered in blood, some were whispering at him eerily. 

He opened a book, and then he wished he hadn’t, because it screamed at him. 

Harry gasped and shut it quickly, stumbling backwards and knocking over the lamp he brought with him. Everything went completely dark. 

Just then, Harry heard footsteps. Filch. 

Luckily he managed to evade him, and slip behind a suit of armour. 

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. His soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

The two voices faded, and Harry knew that he could finally make a move. 

He ran into a room that was the nearest to him, so he could hide out and wait until it was safe. 

He took his cloak off, and looked around. 

There was a big, beautiful mirror. 

It was magnificent, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic fading now, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.

He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed, for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder, but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air. She and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes... her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green, exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees. Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.

The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

“You didn’t have to go all by yourself,” Michael said, as they ate breakfast. 

“I kind of wanted to… but, I want you to come with me tonight. I can show you my parents, and the rest of my family,” he smiled. “And you can show me yours.” 

Michael nodded, eating a hash brown as Harry stared off into the distance. 

“Did you actually find anything out about Nicholas Flamel?” 

Harry shook his head. “No..” 

“So what do we do now?”

Harry seemed a little out of it. Michael noticed he wasn’t eating. 

“Are you okay?”

Harry nodded. He wanted to go back to the mirror and see his family again. He couldn’t take his mind off it. 

Come evening, both Harry and Michael got under the invisibility cloak and made their way out of the dungeons. Harry had trouble finding that room again, since he found it by accident last time, but soon enough he saw the same armour he hid behind, and lead his friend to the door of the room. 

They walked in, and after shutting the door, let the invisibility cloak fall on the floor, as Harry rushed to stand in front of the mirror. There he saw his parents again, smiling at him, and the rest of his family. He smiled back. 

“Come here,” he waved Michael over. 

Michael stood next to Harry, tilting his head. “It’s just you and me…” 

“No, you have to look properly. Stand there…” Harry pulled him more into the middle, and stepped out of the way. 

Harry smiled brightly. “That’s my mother and that’s my...” Harry trailed off.

He saw Michael’s face drain of colour. He was almost as white as a sheet of paper.

He didn’t move. 

“W- what’s wrong…” Harry stammered. “What do you see?”

Michael closed his eyes and shook his head, stepping away from the mirror. “N- nothing… you must… be having hallucinations or something…” 

Harry knew that it wasn’t the case. But he didn’t want to press on. Whatever Michael saw, he wasn’t about to talk about it. 

“Let’s go back,” Harry finally said. “I have some chocolate frogs left, you can have some.” 

They put the invisibility cloak over their heads and made their way back. 

Harry couldn’t fall asleep that night, and neither could Michael. What had the other seen? Did he even see his parents, or something else? He wondered, his mother did look a bit like Michael. Could they have been related? But why wouldn’t Michael tell Harry? No… That can’t be right...

What even was that mirror? 

* * *

The next day, Ron came to play wizard’s chess with Harry and Michael, though Harry didn’t want to play. He just sat there, staring at the fire in the fireplace, as the other two played. Try as he may, Michael couldn’t beat Ron. 

“Hey, Harry. You want a go?” 

Harry shook his head. He wanted to go see the mirror again. 

Every night he’d take his invisibility cloak and go sit in front of the mirror, looking at his parents and his family longingly. 

During breakfast, he started to talk about it again, and Michael said, “There’s something seriously wrong with that mirror, Harry. I don’t think you should go.” he still looked shaken by whatever he saw. 

“Look, whatever you saw isn’t what I’m seeing. So I’m going to be fine.” 

The final night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone.

And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.

Except...

"So... back again, Harry?"

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.

"I... I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, Sir."

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It... well... it shows me my family."

"And it showed something rather terrifying to your friend, Michael, didn’t it?"

"How did you know?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Michael Munroe, on the other hand, might have seen a dark and terrible desire that he didn’t even realize he had. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up.

"Sir- Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry stared.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he prodded Cheshire off his bed, it had been quite a personal question.


	10. Alchemists Around the World

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

“I told you that the mirror was cursed,” Michael muttered, once Harry told him about his dream. 

Harry looked away from his colour changing cheerios. “It shows us what we deeply desire,” he said. “That’s what Dumbledore told me.”

Michael was uncomfortable. Harry still didn’t want to pry. 

* * *

Draco was back right before term started. He seemed to be back to his usual talkative self. Once they told him what happened over the holidays, Draco looked bummed out. “So he hid the mirror? I wonder what I would have seen…” he looked at Harry, “how would the mirror know what your parents looked like if you’ve never seen them before?” 

Harry shrugged. That was a good question. 

He decided not to tell Draco that Michael looked in the mirror too. He knew he’d probably be pushy about it. Instead, the three of them went back to the topic of Nicholas Flamel. 

“I was at home, eating sweets like I usually do, when I picked up a chocolate frog,” began Draco. 

Harry sighed, kind of expecting to hear some sort of story of Draco being outraged by something his servants did or whatever. Instead Draco went on, “I opened my chocolate frog and got another Dumbledore card. But when I turned it around and read it, I realized where I remembered where Nicholas Flamel was from.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. He remembered now. It was that card he got on the train. 

“He was partners with the old man doing alchemy or something…” 

“Alchemy, that’s right,” Michael muttered. The other two boys looked at him. “That’s where I heard his name. In a book about Alchemy.” he quickly got out some parchment and a Quill, and scribbled a note. 

“Could I borrow Hedwig?” he looked at Harry. Harry nodded quickly, “sure. But what are you doing?” 

“I’ll write my father, hopefully he will send me that book. I haven’t seen it in the library so I don’t think we’d have any luck finding it here.” 

“I see…” Draco muttered. 

“He might ignore my note but it’s worth a try.” 

And so Michael gave it to Hedwig, and she took off to deliver it. 

That’s when someone Michael really didn’t want to see, put his hand on his shoulder. 

“Little brother! Oh, how I missed you.” 

It was Cedric Munroe. “I hope you’ve been good…” he almost strangled him in his embrace. 

“I see you’re here with your best friends, Potter and Malfoy,” he grinned. “I’m sure the two of you probably don’t know much about my little brother, but I’d be careful if I were you.” 

Draco opened his mouth to probably throw an insult, but Munroe quickly spoke over him. 

“Training on the Quidditch field, Potter. Gryffindor will play against Hufflepuff first, and Slytherins will play against Ravenclaw. See you there!” 

They thought he was done, but to their demise his voice returned. “Oh, and by the way, join my theatre club as soon as you can, spots are limited…” he handed all three of them some sort of leaflets, before pransing away. 

Draco rolled his eyes, “if I had a brother like that, I would run away.” 

“Don’t think I haven’t tried?” Michael said quietly, folding up his leaflet and putting it in his pocket. 

“Who does he think he is? No one’s going to join his stupid drama club…” 

* * *

Quidditch practice was rougher now it was much colder than before. All they had to do was beat Ravenclaw, and then Hufflepuff, and they will win the house cup. All that training kept Harry’s mind off of things that prevented him from getting enough sleep. He found himself too tired to ruminate, knocking out as soon as he got into bed.

“Good news!” Announced Cedric Munroe, waving his arms around, “Professor Snape will be refereeing our championship! Isn’t that just great. We’ve pretty much got this if Potter catches the snitch again.” he patted Harry’s back rather violently. 

Back in the Slytherin common room, Draco and Michael were playing a game of wizard’s chess, and by the way Draco was scowling Harry could tell that he must have lost a few times already. 

He sat down on the leather armchair near the fire, by the table where his two friends played their game. “You’ll never believe this… Snape is refereeing our match.” 

Draco’s scowl faded, and was replaced with a smile, “we’re going to win then… why the sour face?” 

Harry looked over at him, “He tried to kill me last match… and I bet he’s going to try to do it again. And he will probably succeed...” he looked dejected. 

“No, it would be too obvious,” Michael said, turning to look at Harry. “If you died everyone would know it was Snape who did it. I get that he’s probably evil and all, but I doubt he’s an idiot.” 

Draco nodded. “Exactly. So cheer up, we’re going to win the house cup.” 

Harry nodded a little, trying to push away those negative thoughts, but they lingered still on the back of his mind. He couldn’t get past the anxiety he was feeling. 

* * *

The next day during breakfast, Harry and Michael found that Draco was already in the great hall when they came down, hanging around with Crabbe and Goyle. All three of them were laughing at something with amusement. Harry and Michael sat down opposite them on the Slytherin table. “What’s going on?” asked Harry. 

Draco was having trouble speaking through his laughter. “I just… Oh my god… Bottom… Longbottom…” 

He slapped his hand against the table. 

Harry looked over to the Gryffindor table. Neville Longbottom had his legs glued together in what they recognised was the leg-locker curse. 

He hopped all the way to the table, sobbing, calling for Hermione specifically since it seemed like she was the only one who knew what to do about it. 

Hermione stood up and counter-cursed him quickly, as they all looked over at Draco and his minions in disdain. 

Harry couldn’t help it. He cracked a smile, quickly hiding it with his hand. 

He knew he shouldn’t be finding this funny. But somewhere deep inside it gave him satisfaction, seeing someone go through what he went through his whole childhood. He tried to repress it for such a long time. Michael must’ve noticed, because he tapped his arm and said, “you think that this is funny?” 

Harry pursed his lips and quickly shook his head. 

Michael gave him a small smile, “it’s okay… I’m not going to judge you for it.” 

Harry wasn’t sure what to think. 

Draco’s laughs quickly faded and he turned around to look at Harry and Michael. “Did you see that oaf’s face? Bet he’s going to cry himself to sleep about it…” 

“Why do you find this sort of thing so amusing?” Michael asked. His voice was genuinely curious, not judgemental or condescending in any way. 

Draco must’ve been stumped by this question. He couldn’t really think of a good answer. 

“Well… because it’s just funny… besides, what does it matter. Longbottom’s a nobody. He’s never going to get anywhere in life unless he learns to harden up and actually fight back.” 

Harry looked back to the Gryffindor table, at Neville. He did feel bad for him, but he couldn’t help but agree with Draco. He needed to learn to stand up for himself. 

Just then, it was mail time. To Michael’s surprise, Hedwig actually arrived with a package in a shape of a book, dropping it on the table in front of him. “He actually sent it,” Michael had a look of disbelief on his face. Was it really that shocking that his father would send something to him? Harry wondered if he had a similar relationship to him that he had with Uncle Vernon. 

Michael unwrapped the book called “Alchemists around the world,” and opened up the table of contents. The book itself looked very grubby and old. Michael explained to them that it was a rare textbook that was passed down through his family for generations. Apparently Michael had a well known Alchemist ancestor. Draco seemed fascinated. It was the only time he would actually listen to Michael talk; when he would talk about Alchemy.

He found Nicholas Flamel in the index and flipped through the yellowing pages, stopping on the right number. 

“Nicholas Flamel, born in 1327, and living till this day, is the only known man alive to create the Philosopher’s Stone. Countless Alchemists lay down their lives to uncover the secrets to the magical substance. This stone is known to transform any type of metal into pure gold, as well as brew the elixir of life, which is known to give its drinker immortality.” 

Once Michael read it, the three of them looked at each other with wide eyes.

“That’s what they’re hiding. I will bet my invisibility cloak on it,” Harry put his fist down. 

Draco raised an eyebrow, “invisibility cloak?” 

“Of course it makes sense,” Michael quickly interrupted. “Dumbledore is close friends with Nicholas Flamel. Who would be a better person to ask to protect the stone?” 

“And it makes sense why Snape would go after it. Who wouldn’t want to be immortal?” Harry chimed in.

“We couldn’t find him in any of the books because he’s been alive for like six hundred something years.” 

Draco, whom a few months ago didn’t want anything to do with this, was suddenly all in. “So what are we going to do?”

“We need to talk to Hagrid.” 

Michael let Draco keep his Alchemists Around the World book, since he didn’t really have any use for it anymore. No one in his family really cared about it, so it’s not like it mattered. Draco would read it during lunch and dinner. He pointed out cool things to Harry and Michael as they ate, and the two of them mutually agreed that this was a much better hobby for him than to be bullying Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. 

During Defence Against the Dark Arts, the three of them would discuss what they’d do with a Philosopher’s Stone if they had one. Harry wondered if he could use it to bring his parents back to life, whilst Draco said he’d turn all the metal he could find into gold, and be immortal. Michael didn’t seem to give an answer. But one thing was for sure, they were talking about Quidditch just as much, if not more than Draco’s sudden love for Alchemy. 

“I’m kind of worried,” Harry admitted to Michael. “What if Snape does end up killing me? I mean he could make it look like an accident.” 

“If you’re unsure about this, you don’t have to play,” Michael said. 

Harry shook his head. “No. I’m going to play. I made my mind up…” 

Just like before the last championships, Harry carried Quidditch Through the Ages around with him wherever he went. 

Pansy called them nerds at one point because Draco and Harry were carrying their favourite books around. 

“No one asked for your opinion, you mutt-faced troll…” 

Draco would Scowl at her and she’d through dirty looks back at him whenever they passed. 

He noticed that Blaise was now following after her wherever she went, alongside a few other Slytherin girls. 

“Maybe we should jinx her,” Goyle said. 

“Or put a nasty potion in her goblet.” 

They sniggered. 

“Gotta think of something,” Draco said, rather cheerfully. 

Harry and Michael weren’t at all opposed. They didn’t feel bad since she was so horrible to them. 

* * *

Gryffindor had their match with Hufflepuff this week, and Hufflepuff ended up winning. Draco found this amusing… “Gryffindor beat by Hufflepuff. Could you imagine?” 

Professor Snape was getting more horrible by the day to Harry, even though Harry was in his own house. He wondered how much Snape thought Harry knew, he hoped not much. But his nerves were really getting to him. He wasn’t sure if he would survive the next Quidditch match. 

The day finally came and Harry went to the locker room to prepare. Cedric Munroe gave his usual overly dramatic talk, and once it was done Harry grabbed his Nimbus 2000, and wished himself luck. 

Draco and Michael, along with Crabbe and Goyle made their way to the stands along with the rest of the Slytherins. Draco’s wand accidentally hit the back of Ron’s head. “Oh, sorry… didn’t see you there, Weasley…” 

Michael saw the shock of Ron’s face at Draco’s sudden politeness. And to be perfectly honest, Michael was just as shocked. 

They found a good spot where they could watch over both Snape and Harry in case something went wrong. 

“If Professor Snape tries to pull anything weird, use that curse on him that you used on Neville.”

Draco nodded a bit, though he didn’t seem like he particularly wanted to. He knew he’d rather save Harry than avoid getting into trouble with Professor Snape, but he couldn’t help feeling like he’d lock up in fear. “If I freeze you’ll have to do it for me…” 

“Look at that!” Cedric Munroe cheered, peeking out from the locker room door, “Dumbledore himself is coming to watch our beautiful performance! Vicky, can you believe it?” he nudged Meyrose and clapped his hands. 

Harry felt a wave of relief. If Dumbledore was there, nothing bad would happen to him. He felt his spirits rise. He could do this. Slytherin was going to win at all costs. 

They entered the field, and Madam Hooch explained the rules as usual. 

The game began and Harry kicked off the ground, circling around the field, eyes scanning for any sign of the snitch. 

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Draco loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Ravenclaw another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Wood, who only had a single win since he became the Captain, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money... you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville turned bright red, as Draco and his friends laughed between themselves, and turned towards them. "I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something." Draco was now patting Michael’s arm, trying to get him to laugh along. 

"I'm warning you, Malfoy... one more word..." Ron was now getting agitated. 

"Draco," said Michael suddenly, "Harry..."

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the Slytherins. Ron stood up, and Michael leaned forward to get a better look, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"Look at that, Weasley, Harry’s obviously spotted some money on the ground, maybe he’ll be generous enough to give it to your family," said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help.

Goyle and Crabbe stood up, and Neville knew he was dead. Pansy was in tears the row behind them, it wasn’t clear if she was laughing at the Neville or Draco. 

Michael leaned forward again to get a better look as Harry sped straight at Snape. He didn't even notice Draco and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches. The next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

“Draco!” Michael called in excitement, which was probably the loudest he had been so far. “Draco, Harry did it…” He turned to where he was a few minutes ago, to see there was no one there. 

Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn't believe it. He'd done it. The game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Professor Snape land nearby, looking rather pleased. Then Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror... been keeping busy... excellent..."

Harry left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He couldn't ever remember feeling happier. He'd really done something to be proud of now. No one could say he was just a famous name any more. 

Draco and the other Slytherins chanted his name as he approached them. He felt extremely proud. They were the winners once again. 

Cedric Munroe put his arm around Harry, putting his fingers to his eyes, trying to stop incoming tears. “That… that was so beautiful, Potter…. I can’t get over with what grace you caught the snitch,” he spoke like he was on stage. “I’m not going to cry, I’m not! Vicky, shh…” he put his finger on Victoria Meyrose’s lips as her eyes widened. She wasn’t going to say anything. “Today is a day of Victory...a!” he laughed “I’m so smart… Potter’s beautiful performance is all the more reason why he should join my theatre club. anyway, let’s go and feast!” he walked onward like a real champion. 

Harry turned to Draco. Draco had a black eye. 

Harry’s smile faded. “What happened?”

“It was Weasley. He’s a real savage. Attacked me for no reason.” 

Harry looked surprised. It was unlike Ron to attack unprovoked. 

When he looked at Michael, Michael shrugged, “I didn’t see what happened. I was watching you catch the snitch.” 

Harry had reached the shed. He leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Slytherin’s in the lead. He'd done it, he'd proven to everyone that he was worthy to be a wizard. 

Harry suddenly noticed something strange. 

A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harry's victory faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner? What was going on?

Harry jumped back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he saw Snape enter the forest at a run. He followed.

The trees were so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard voices. He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

He climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves.

Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.

"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."

Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I-"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you-"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hooted loudly, and Harry nearly fell out of the tree. He steadied himself in time to hear Snape say, "your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't-"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Harry could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

"Harry, where have you been?" Michael sounded concerned.

“We’re so much better than all the other houses, wouldn’t you agree?” Draco spoke to Crabbe and Goyle. “We won, and I managed to break Weasley’s nose in the process. Can’t believe you two sent Longbottom straight to the hospital wing,” they all sniggered. 

“Oh, Harry, there you are,” Draco suddenly turned around. 

“You two won’t believe what just happened,” Harry was talking breathlessly. “Let's go find a quiet room… you need to hear this…” 

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard.

"So we were right, it is the Philosopher’s Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy, and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocus'; I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through..."

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Professor Quirrel doesn’t tell Snape?" whispered Michael with wide eyes. 

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," moaned Draco.


	11. The Forbidden Forest

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they'd thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he'd cracked yet.

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry and Michael would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Draco, on the other hand, preferred to stay as far away as possible. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Harry passed Quirrell these days he gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Draco had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter. “Shut your mouth, I bet you’d do more than stutter if you came head to head with a real life Vampire.” 

Michael was probably the only one of the three that was focusing on his school work. The other two boys were grateful they had someone to copy from, though the red haired boy muttered something about them not actually learning anything by copying. 

“Exams are aaages away,” Draco groaned. “Besides, my brain was always like a sponge. I soak up new information like it’s nothing. That’s what my mother always says.” 

“We’ll need to pass these exams to get into second year,” Michael muttered. 

Harry could tell that this motivated him above everything else. Harry should be just as motivated, he couldn’t lose his place at Hogwarts. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the stone. 

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Michael. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with the constant flow of stacks of books and tests coming one after the other. Moaning and yawning, Harry and his friends spent most of their free time in the library, trying to get through all their extra work.

"Can’t they give us a goddamn break?" Draco burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Harry, who was looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until he heard Michael say, "Hagrid? What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Draco impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher’s St-"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy-"

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen -- come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh--"

"See you later, then," said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Michael thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Draco, who'd had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons!" he declared. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him, " said Harry.

“Is someone talking about Dragons?” Ron Weasley’s voice suddenly interrupted the trio. “My brother Charlie studies Dragons in Romania!” 

“Really?” Harry’s eyes widened. Draco threw a dirty look at Ron, who threw one back, but they didn’t say anything to each other. 

"You said Hagrid wanted a dragon? It's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden. anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" said Harry.

"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" whispered Michael.

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused.

"So... yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher’s Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at him.

"O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts -- I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Draco in a strangely warm, flattering voice. 

Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Harry added, catching on to Draco’s tactic. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry and Draco beamed at each other.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall," he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell, an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?"

"Yeah. Yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Harry knew Draco and Michael were thinking the same as he was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything… except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others. 

"Can you open a window? I'm boiling," Draco complained. 

"Can't, Draco, sorry," said Hagrid. Harry noticed him glance at the fire. Harry looked at it, too.

"Hagrid... what's that?"

But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's- er..."

"Where on earth did you get it?" said Draco, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "Isn’t this illegal?"

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest. An’ well, if no one knows then there’s no harm"

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Michael.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library. Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit... it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here... how ter recognize diff'rent eggs... what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Draco didn't.

"Your house is made of wood," he muttered, turning to Harry. “I told you he’d set this place on fire.” 

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Draco moaned, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. 

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hatching.

Draco wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Michael said it was a bad idea. 

"How many times in our lives are we going to see an actual real life dragon hatching?"

"We'll get into trouble, they’ll start asking questions. And if they find out what Hagrid is doing-"

"Shut up!" Harry whispered.

Pansy Parkinson was only a few feet away and she had stopped dead to listen. How much had she heard? Harry didn't like the look on her face at all.

Draco and Michael argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, they all agreed to run down to Hagrid's during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the three of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he beautiful ?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

“It’s so ugly,” Draco whispered, his face contorted with disgust. 

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Michael, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face… he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains -- it's a girl-- she's runnin' back up ter the school."

Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking it.

Pansy Parkinson had seen the dragon.

Something about the smile lurking on Parkinson’s face during the next week made Harry and Michael very nervous. Draco on the other hand, didn’t seem to care all that much. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him, with Draco constantly reminding Harry and Michael that it wasn’t really any of their business.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

Draco sat in the armchair, his arms crossed. “You should have thought about it before taking this beast in.” 

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

"He's lost his mind," Draco muttered.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Parkinson could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I- I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turned to Michael. "Charlie." he said.

"I’m Michael," he responded, confused. 

“No, remember Ron told us about his brother, Charlie? He studies dragons. Maybe we could talk to Ron and see if he could take Norbert in.” 

Draco thought this was a stupid idea. “Talk to Weasley? Are you sure you can trust him not to blabber all about this to everyone in the bloody school?” 

“What choice do we have,” Harry muttered. 

“It’s none of our business though is it?” Draco pushed, “We’re supposed to be studying for our exams, not transporting dragons.” 

“You don’t have to be part of this if you don’t want to,” Harry assured. 

It took awhile for Hagrid to actually agree. 

The following day, Harry spoke to Ron, telling him about Hagrid’s situation with his dragon and wondering if he could write to his brother, Charlie. Ron was amazed by the fact that Hagrid had a dragon, and really wanted to see it for himself. He agreed to write an owl to Charlie, to see if they could come and collect Norbert as soon as possible. 

Michael regretted bringing Draco with him to help Hagrid feed Norbert. 

When they came back to the common room, removing Harry’s invisibility cloak, Draco looked paler than the marble staircases they just descended. “It bit me… It actually bit me…” 

Harry’s worry was short-lived, when Draco showed him his hand. It was just a small bite along his fingers, yet he was acting like his whole arm just been taken off. 

“It’s okay,” Michael whispered gently, as Draco whined. “It bit me… Just… Just wait till my father hears about this! What’s with all these dangerous beasts and Hogwarts? It’s supposed to be the safest place in the world!” 

“It’s okay,” Michael was trying his best to calm him down. The next thing they needed was Draco writing his parents. Especially when his father was a Hogwarts’ governor. Hagrid would be fired if he found out. “What can you expect from dragons? Charlie will soon come and take Norbert away, and the problem will be solved.” 

After a while Michael succeeded in calming Draco down, and the moment after he was boasting about his “battle scar,” to Harry, who was nodding along, not really wanting to stomp on his ego. “I, single handedly, tamed a wild dragon in my very first year of Hogwarts. My father would be proud of me.” 

After the mail came in during breakfast, Ron approached the Slytherin table, rather cautiously. To his surprise, neither Draco or his two bodyguard friends said a word. 

Harry turned around to face him. 

“Charlie’s sent a reply,” Ron mumbled, giving Harry the letter. 

Harry read it silently. 

“Dear Ron,

How are you? Thanks for the letter -- I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.

Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.

Send me an answer as soon as possible.

Love,

Charlie”

“That’s good news,” Harry whispered. 

“I’ll write back to him straight away,” Ron said, returning back to the Gryffindor table. 

“Friends with Weasley now, are we, Potter?” Pansy Parkinson suddenly chimed in. “Wonder what you were whispering so secretively about…”

“Shut up, mutt-face,” Draco retorted. “It’s none of your business.” 

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Draco’s bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. They didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey. Would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, they had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry and Michael rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Draco in a terrible state in bed.

"My hand… my hand is falling off… I’m going to die," he whined pathetically. “I’m going to die and there’s nothing they can do to save me… This is all Hagrid’s fault… my father-” 

Harry and Michael tried to calm Draco down the best they could.

Once Draco’s mind cleared a bit, he glanced to the desk beside the bed. “Where is it?” 

“Where’s what?” Michael muttered. 

“My book. Alchemists Around the World. It’s gone…” he closed his eyes. 

“Gone?” Harry was confused. “Did someone take it?” 

“I think… I think I saw someone when I thought I was going to die. It was Parkinson. She came to laugh at me, that mutt-faced troll. She probably took it, thought it’d be funny. 

“Didn’t you put Charlie’s letter in that book?” 

Both Harry and Michael’s faces were as pale as Draco’s. 

"...It'll all be over soon. Midnight on Saturday. I’m sure it will all be alright. We’ve got the cloak after all," whispered Michael, but this didn't soothe them at all. Draco gave out a moan of either pain or annoyance. “Just admit it, we’re screwed…” 

Madam Pomfrey soon came back and made them all leave immediately, saying Draco needed to rest. 

“We haven’t got time to change the dates, we’re going to have to do it on Saturday. And hope that Parkinson doesn’t find the letter.” 

Though when they returned to their common room, they found Alchemists Around the World lying on the table. Michael quickly opened the book, but couldn’t find the letter that was hidden inside. Both Michael and Harry looked at each other. “We’ll have to be quick.” 

They found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them.

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage, nothin' I can't handle."

When they told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot... jus' playin'... he's only a baby, after all."

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry and Michael walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harry as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and Michael covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. "Mommy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another; even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Parkinson by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you?"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming, he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on, I shall see Professor Snape about you, Miss Parkinson!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again.

"Can’t believe she’s got detention. See everything turned out just right in the end," Michael whispered.

They waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry and Michael the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry and Michael shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going... going... gone.

They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon, Parkinson in detention, what could spoil their happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we are in trouble."

They'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.

Filch took them both to Professor McGonagall’s office for their punishment. 

Harry and Michael never seen her this angry before. 

Not only did they see Pansy Parkinson in her office, but also Draco. 

Harry looked at him, confused. Wasn’t he supposed to be in the hospital wing? He saw that his hand was doing much better, but what on earth was he doing up here? 

“I can’t believe it,” Professor McGonagall shook her head, “Pansy Parkinson over here was saying that you, Potter, was smuggling a dragon to the top tower of the castle. Now, I know that that’s preposterous, but care to explain to me what exactly you were doing out of bed?” 

Harry wasn’t sure what to say. Pansy quickly spoke up, “well, that’s what they said they were going to do… now that I think about it, I think they did it on purpose to get me into trouble.” 

“Is that so?” Professor McGonagall asked. Draco looked at Pansy bitterly, “shut your lying mouth, mutt-face… You set them up” he looked at the very angry looking Professor. “I heard her laughing with her stupid little friends about how she stole a very rare book from me whilst I was in the hospital wing, and that she was going to challenge Harry and Michael to a duel to get it back. I bet she was too scared to show up and instead went to rat them out like the little coward that she is,” he practically hissed. 

Professor McGonagall didn’t know who to believe. But she didn’t seem to care whose fault it was. “Fifty points from Slytherin,” she said. 

Draco’s and Pansy’s mouths fell open. 

“Each,” she added. Harry and Michael turned pale. Here went all the points they won for Slytherin during their Quidditch match. 

“Professor- that’s not fair!” Pansy Parkinson gasped. She clearly either hoped that they would get detention or be expelled or something, but she didn’t expect this. 

“It’s all your fault,” Draco huffed. 

200 points lost for Slytherin, Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. He went from the most popular kid in Slytherin to the most hated villain. Michael, Draco and Pansy didn’t get it as bad since they weren’t as well known as Harry was, but they were still talking bad about them and ignoring them. Even Crabbe and Goyle avoided Draco. They were hanging out with Blaise, which wasn’t a good sign. Draco felt like without his two bodyguards he was suddenly defenseless, and refrained from making fun of anyone for a while. Harry thought that this was the only positive thing about this situation. 

“Why did you leave the hospital wing, Draco? Could have saved us 50 points,” Harry said. 

“I had to… I heard Parkinson was going to go and tell Professor McGonagall. I wanted to warn you.” 

“Should have just stayed in bed,” Michael said dejectedly. 

Harry spoke to Cedric Munroe, telling him that he should probably drop out of the Slytherin team since he was so hated now, but Munroe said, “nonsense!” and that without Harry on their team, they probably wouldn’t be able to win the next Quidditch match. They had no other seeker. 

* * *

Between all the studying and… well, more studying, Harry ended up overhearing another conversation between Snape and Quirrell. 

Walking back from the library on his own one afternoon, he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, he heard Quirrell’s voice. 

“No- no- not again, please…” It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harry moved closer. “All right, all right,” he heard Quirrell sob. Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom, straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Harry didn’t think Quirrell had even noticed him. He waited until Quirrell’s footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end.

Harry would bet 12 Philosopher stones that it was Professor Snape that left through that door. 

Harry realized that this was it. Quirrell must have given in to Snape’s threats. Snape knew how to get past his traps. 

When he told Draco and Michael, Draco seemed to be totally out of it again. “What does it even matter, I don’t see how any of this is any of our business. Who cares what Professor Snape does with the stone? It’s not like you can really use it to kill people,” he was writing down notes for his potions exams. Losing 200 points must have taken a toll on him. “Maybe we should stay out of this altogether, I don’t particularly want to die, do you?” he suddenly looked at Harry, who’s eyes widened and he quickly shook his head. “Let the teachers deal with it, they know what they’re doing. If you think any of this can get past Dumbledore, you must be as dumb as Longbottom.” 

Michael could help but agree with Draco. 

* * *

The three of them were told that they will have to meet with Mr Filch for their detention.

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about what horrible things Filch would do to them. Maybe he will find some kind of loophole to the school rules, and end up making them do something awful, or doing something awful to them. He got shivers just thinking about it. 

When they got there, they saw Pansy Parkinson who didn’t look much happier than them. She had a scowl on her face, almost identical to the one Draco wore. 

“Come along now,” Filch lead them down the corridor, holding a lamp, and to their surprise, out of the school into the open field. It was late, so naturally it was quite dark and gloomy outside. 

Draco was walking a few steps behind Harry and Michael, grabbing onto the back of Harry’s robes. “What’s he going to do with us?” he whispered. “Is he going to drag us around the Quidditch field by our toes?” 

“Cry baby,” Parkinson sneered. 

“Shut your mouth,” Draco snarled. 

“You’re going to serve your detention with Hagrid tonight,” said Filch in a sour tone. 

Harry felt a wave of relief. 

“-But if it were up to me, you’d be hanging by your wrists from the ceiling in the dungeons for days.” 

Harry’s relief must have showed in his face, because Filch said, “I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy. It’s into the Forest you’re going and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come out in one piece.” 

At this, Michael turned pale and Draco stopped dead in his tracks. “The Forest?” he repeated, “We can’t go in there at night... there’s all sorts of things in there... werewolves, I heard.” 

“Should’ve thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn’t you?” 

Hagrid came striding towards them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder. “Abou’ time,” he said. “I bin waitin’ fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Michael, Draco?” 

“I shouldn’t be too friendly to them, Hagrid,” said Filch coldly, “they’re here to be punished, after all.”

“That’s why yer late, is it?” said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. “Bin lecturin’ them, eh? ’Snot your place ter do that. Yeh’ve done yer bit, I’ll take over from here.” 

“I’ll be back at dawn,” said Filch, “for what’s left of them,” he added nastily, and he turned and started back towards the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness. 

Draco now turned to Hagrid. “I’m not going in that Forest,” he said, and Pansy Parkinson seemed very pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice. 

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” said Hagrid rather fiercely. “Yeh’ve all done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.” 

“But this is servant stuff, it’s not for students to do. I thought we’d be writing lines or something. Besides, it's your fault we’re in this mess. If my father knew I was doing this, he’d-” 

“-tell yer that’s how it is at Hogwarts,” Hagrid interrupted. “Writin’ lines! What good’s that ter anyone? Yeh’ll do summat useful or yeh’ll get out. If yeh think yer father’d rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an’ pack. And I know… I know it’s me fault… That’s why I offered ter do this, think I enjoy takin’ ye youngins out in the forbidden forest like this.” 

Draco didn’t move. He looked at Hagrid furiously but then dropped his gaze. They could have had Filch instead, it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. 

“Right then,” said Hagrid, “now, listen carefully, ’cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight an’ I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over here a moment.”

He led them to the very edge of the Forest. Holding his lamp up high he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the Forest. 

“Look there,” said Hagrid, “see that stuff shinin’ on the ground? Silvery stuff? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.” 

“And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?’ said Draco, unable to keep the fear out of his voice. 

“There’s nothin’ that lives in the Forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang,” said Hagrid. “An’ keep ter the path. Right, now, we’re gonna split inter two parties an’ follow the trail in diff’rent directions. There’s blood all over the place, it must’ve bin staggerin’ around since last night at least.” 

“I want Fang,” said Draco quickly, petting the dog’s head as he showed his big teeth.

“Alright, though he’s a bit of a coward” said Hagrid. 

Draco suddenly looked nervous. 

“So me, Harry an’ Michael go one way an’ Draco, Pansy an’ Fang’ll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an’ practise now… that’s it... an’ if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an’ we’ll all come an’ find yeh... so, be careful... let’s go.”

The Forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path and Harry, Michael and Hagrid took the left path while Draco, Pansy and Fang took the right. They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver blue blood on the fallen leaves. 

Harry saw that Hagrid looked very worried. “Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?” Harry asked. 

“Not fast enough,” said Hagrid. “It’s not easy ter catch a unicorn, they’re powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before.” 

They walked past a mossy tree-stump. Harry could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.

“You all right, Michael?” Hagrid whispered. “Don’ worry, it can’t’ve gone far if it’s this badly hurt an’ then we’ll be able ter- GET BEHIND THAT TREE!” 

Hagrid seized Harry and Michael and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. 

The three of them listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away. 

“I knew it,” he murmured. “There’s summat in here that shouldn’ be.” 

“A werewolf?” Harry suggested. 

“That wasn’ no werewolf an’ it wasn’ no unicorn, neither,” said Hagrid grimly. “Right, follow me, but careful, now.” 

They walked slower, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved. 

“Who’s there?” Hagrid called. “Show yerself. I’m armed!” 

And into the clearing came... was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse’s gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and Michael’s jaws dropped. 

“Oh, it’s you, Ronan,” said Hagrid in relief. “How are yeh?” 

He walked forward and shook the centaur’s hand. 

“Good evening to you, Hagrid,” said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. “Were you going to shoot me?” 

“Can’t be too careful, Ronan,” said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. “There’s summat bad loose in this Forest. This is Harry Potter an’ Michael Munroe, by the way. Students up at the school. An’ this is Ronan, you two. He’s a centaur.” 

“We’d noticed,” whispered Michael faintly. 

“Good evening,” said Ronan. “Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?” “Erm… A bit,” said Harry timidly. 

“A bit. Well, that’s something.” Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. “Mars is bright tonight.” 

“Yeah,” said Hagrid, glancing up too. “Listen, I’m glad we’ve run inter yeh, Ronan, ’cause there’s a unicorn bin hurt... you seen anythin’?”

Ronan didn’t answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upwards, then sighed again. “Always the innocent are the first victims,” he said. “So it has been for ages past, so it is now.”

“Yeah,” said Hagrid, “but have yeh seen anythin’, Ronan? Anythin’ unusual?” 

“Mars is bright tonight,” Ronan repeated while Hagrid watched him impatiently. “Unusually bright.” 

“Yeah, but I was meanin’ anythin’ unusual a bit nearer home,” said Hagrid. “So yeh haven’t noticed anythin’ strange?” 

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, “The Forest hides many secrets.” 

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan. 

“Hullo, Bane,” said Hagrid. “All right?” 

“Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?”

“Well enough. Look, I’ve jus’ bin askin’ Ronan, you seen anythin’ odd in here lately? Only there’s a unicorn bin injured... would yeh know anythin’ about it?” 

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skywards. “Mars is bright tonight,” he said simply. 

“We’ve heard,” said Hagrid grumpily. “Well, if either of you do see anythin’, let me know, won’t yeh? We’ll be off, then.” 

Harry and Michael followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view. 

“Never,” said Hagrid irritably, “try an’ get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy star-gazers. Not interested in anythin’ closer’n the moon.” 

“Are there many of them in here?” asked Michael curiously. 

“Oh, a fair few ... Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they’re good enough about turnin’ up if ever I want a word. They’re deep, mind, centaurs ... they know things ... jus’ don’ let on much.” 

“D’you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?” said Harry. 

“Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what’s bin killin’ the unicorns. Never heard anythin’ like it before.” 

They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harry kept looking nervously over his shoulder. He had the nasty feeling they were being watched. He was very glad they had Hagrid and his crossbow with them. They had just passed a bend in the path when Michael grabbed Hagrid’s arm. “Hagrid, Look... Red sparks…” 

“You two wait here!” Hagrid shouted. “Stay on the path, I’ll come back for yeh!”

They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn’t hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them. 

“You don’t think they’ve been hurt, do you?” whispered Michael. 

“I don’t care if Parkinson has, but if something’s got Draco...’ 

The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Harry’s seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. 

What was going on? Where were the others? At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid’s return. 

Draco, Pansy and Fang were with him. 

Hagrid was fuming. 

Draco, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Pansy and grabbed her to scare her. Pansy had panicked and sent up the sparks. The both of them looked real annoyed with each other. 

“We’ll be lucky ter catch anythin’ now, with the racket you two were makin’. Right, we’re changin’ groups. Pansy, you stay with me an’ Michael, Harry, you go with Fang an’ Draco.” 

So Harry set off into the heart of the Forest with Draco and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the Forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. 

“She just wouldn’t shut up, like I’m telling you Harry, she just wouldn’t stop talking. I was getting kind of sick of it, to be honest. Serves her right. You should have seen how scared she was,” Draco gave a small laugh. 

Harry nodded, though he wasn’t listening. He thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Harry could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak. “Look…” he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Draco. Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer. 

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly white on the dark leaves. 

Harry had taken one step towards it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered... Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. 

Harry, Draco and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, it lowered its head over the wound in the animal’s side, and began to drink its blood. “AAAAAAAAAAARGH!” Draco let out a terrible scream and bolted, so did Fang. 

The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry; unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly towards him... he couldn’t move for fear. Then a pain pierced his head like he’d never felt before, it was as though his scar was on fire. Half-blinded, he staggered backwards. 

He heard hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over him, charging at the figure. The pain in Harry’s head was so bad he fell to his knees. It took a minute or two to pass. 

When he looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur was standing over him, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body. 

“Are you all right?” said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet. 

“Yes... thank you... what was that?” 

The centaur didn’t answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar which stood out, livid, on Harry’s forehead. “You are the Potter boy,” he said. “You had better get back to Hagrid. The Forest is not safe at this time. Especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way. My name is Firenze,” he added, as he lowered himself onto his front legs so that Harry could clamber on to his back. 

“What was that thing you saved me from?” 

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry to keep his head bowed in case of low-hanging branches but did not answer Harry’s question. 

They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Harry thought Firenze didn’t want to talk to him any more. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped. “Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?” 

“No,” said Harry, startled by the odd question. “We’ve only used the horn and tail-hair in Potions.” 

“That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn,” said Firenze. “Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenceless to save yourself and you will have but a half life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.” 

Harry stared at the back of Firenze’s head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight. 

“But who’d be that desperate?” he wondered aloud. “If you’re going to be cursed for ever, death’s better, isn’t it?” 

“It is,” Firenze agreed, “unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else... something that will bring you back to full strength and power... something that will mean you can never die. Mr Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?” 

“The Philosopher’s Stone! Of course... the Elixir of Life! But I don’t understand who…” 

“Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?” 

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry’s heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met: “Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die.” 

“Do you mean,” Harry croaked, “that was Vol–” 

“Harry! Harry, are you all right?” Draco and Michael were running towards them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind him. “Sorry I ran… I sort of panicked and didn’t know what to do… I thought you’d be right behind me… but I was taking Hagrid to find you…” 

“I’m fine, it’s fine,” said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying. “The unicorn’s dead, Hagrid, it’s in that clearing back there.” 

“This is where I leave you,” Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. “You are safe now.” 

Harry slid off his back. 

“Good luck, Harry Potter,” said Firenze. “The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times.” He turned and cantered back into the depths of the Forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him. 

Michael was more distraught by the sight of the dead unicorn more than they have ever seen him be. Harry was still trying to process what he had just seen. Even Fang was wailing. 

Harry couldn’t sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room. He was still shaking. “Snape wants the stone for Voldemort... and Voldemort’s waiting in the Forest... and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich or something.” 

“Don’t say his name!” said Draco in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear them. He genuinely looked like he was about to pass out from horror. 

Harry wasn’t listening. “Firenze saved me, he told me that Voldemort was using unicorn blood to sustain himself, waiting to return to his full power... and what he said last about the planets being read wrong before… the Centaurs think that Voldemort will actually succeed.” 

“God, just please stop using his name....” Draco rocked back and forth in the armchair.

“So all I’ve got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone,” Harry went on feverishly, “then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off.’ 

Michael also looked very frightened, but he had a word of comfort. “Harry, everyone says Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won’t touch you. Anyway, the future is never set in stone. It doesn’t matter what the Centaurs think. All they see is the most probable outcome out of thousands.” 

They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore. But the night’s surprises weren’t over. When Harry pulled back his sheets, he found his Invisibility Cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it: “Just in case.”


	12. Through the Trap Door

In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door. 

It was swelteringly hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti Cheating spell, which Crabbe and Goyle collectively groaned at. 

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuff-box. Points were given for how pretty the snuff-box was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness Potion. Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the Forest. He couldn’t sleep, but the truth was that Harry kept being woken by his old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping blood in it. Maybe it was because Michael hadn’t seen what Harry had seen in the Forest, or because him and Draco didn’t have scars burning on their foreheads, they didn’t seem as worried about the Stone as Harry. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn’t keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their revision they didn’t have much time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to. 

Their very last exam was History of Magic. 

One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who’d invented self-stirring cauldrons and they’d be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. 

When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harry couldn’t help cheering with the rest. 

“That was far easier than I thought it would be,” said Draco boastfully, as they joined the crowds flocking out into the sunny grounds. “We didn’t even need to do so much revision to pass.” 

They wandered off to the lake and slumped down by the tree. Josh was sitting nearby, looking mysterious, as Blaise and Parkinson played some kind of game in the distance.

The Weasley twins were running around throwing things at each other, celebrating. 

Everyone seemed happy except for Harry. His scar was hurting more than ever before. 

Michael was peacefully reading a book as Draco threw stones in the lake, and Harry was rubbing his forehead. 

“I wish I knew what this means!” he burst out angrily. “My scar keeps hurting... it’s happened before, but never as often as this.”

“Go to Madam Pomfrey,” Draco suggested, in a rather annoyed tone. 

“I’m not ill,” said Harry. “I think it’s a warning... it means danger’s coming...’ 

“Calm down, the Stone’s safe as long as Dumbledore’s around. Anyway, we’ve never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he’s not going to try it again any time soon.”

Harry nodded, but he couldn’t shake off a lurking feeling that there was something he’d forgotten to do, something important. When he tried to explain this, Michael said, “It’s the exams. I woke up last night thinking I forgot to study up for Transfiguration before I realised we finished that one.”

Harry was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn’t have anything to do with work, though. He watched an owl flutter towards the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent him letters. 

Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy... never... but…

Harry suddenly jumped to his feet. 

“Where’re you going?” groaned Draco, not wanting to get up. But Harry was already walking away. 

“I’ve just thought of something,” He had gone white. “We’ve got to go and see Hagrid, now.” 

“Why?” panted Michael, hurrying to keep up. 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd,” said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, as Draco didn’t even bother trying to keep up, “...that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it’s against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don’t you think? Why didn’t I see it before?”

“What are you on about. Can’t you just drop this, Harry?” complained Draco, finally catching up, but Harry, sprinting across the grounds towards the Forest, didn’t reply. 

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up and he was shelling peas into a large bowl. 

“Hullo,” he said, smiling. “Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?”

“No thanks,” said Draco distastefully, but Harry cut across him. ‘We’re in a hurry. Hagrid, I’ve got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?” 

“Dunno,” said Hagrid casually, “he wouldn’ take his cloak off.” 

He saw the three of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows. 

“It’s not that unusual, yeh get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog’s Head… that’s one of the pubs down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn’ he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up.” 

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. “What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?” 

“Mighta come up,” said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. “Yeah ... he asked what I did, an’ I told him I was gamekeeper here ... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after ... so I told him ... an’ I said what I’d always really wanted was a dragon ... an’ then ... I can’ remember too well, ’cause he kept buyin’ me drinks ... Let’s see ... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an’ we could play cards fer it if I wanted ... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn’ want it ter go ter any old home ... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy …” 

“And did he... did he seem interested in Fluffy?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm. 

“Well, yeah... how many three-headed dogs d’yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy’s a piece o’ cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus’ play him a bit o’ music an’ he’ll go straight off ter sleep…” Hagrid suddenly looked horrified. “I shouldn’ta told yeh that!” he blurted out. “Forget I said it! Hey! Where’re yeh goin’?” 

Harry, Draco and Michael didn’t speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the Entrance Hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds. 

“If Snape gets that stone, I’m dead…” Harry looked paler than ever. 

“What are we going to do?” Michael whispered. 

“Well what d’you think?” Draco started, “we go tell Dumbledore. He’ll know what to do.” 

“What if Hagrid gets into trouble for this?” Harry muttered. 

“We have no choice,” Michael said. “Where… is his office?” 

They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him. 

“We’ll just have to…” Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall. “What are you three doing inside?” It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books. 

“We want to see Professor Dumbledore,” said Draco matter-of-factly. 

“See Professor Dumbledore?” Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. “Why?” 

Harry swallowed. Now what? “It’s sort of secret,” he said, but he wished at once he hadn’t, because Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared. “Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago,” she said coldly. “He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once.” 

“He’s gone?” said Draco frantically. “Now?” 

“Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Malfoy, he has many demands on his time-” “But this is important,” Harry cut in. 

“Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?” 

“Look,” said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, “Professor... it’s about the Philosopher’s Stone.” 

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn’t that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms but she didn’t pick them up. “How do you know?” she spluttered.

“Professor, I think... I know... that Sn- ...that someone’s going to try and steal the Stone. I’ve got to talk to Professor Dumbledore.” 

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion. “Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow,” she said finally. “I don’t know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it’s too well protected.” 

“But Professor-”

“Potter, I know what I’m talking about,” she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. “I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine.” 

But they didn’t. 

“It’s tonight,” said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. “Snape’s going through the trapdoor tonight. He’s found out everything he needs and now he’s got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up.” 

“But what are we supposed to-” Michael’s face went pale. Harry and Draco wheeled round. 

Snape was standing there. 

“Good afternoon,” he said smoothly. They stared at him. “You shouldn’t be inside on a day like this,” he said, with an odd, twisted smile. 

“We were…” Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say. 

“You want to be more careful,” said Snape. “Hanging around like this, people will think you’re up to something…” 

Harry flushed. They turned to go back outside, but Snape called them back. “Be warned, Potter... any more night-time wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you.” He strode off in the direction of the staff room. Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to the others. 

“Right, here’s what we’ve got to do,” he whispered urgently. “One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape. Wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Michael, you’d better do that.” 

“Why me?” he asked. 

“Out of all of us you look the least suspicious… Pretend you’re waiting for Professor Flitwick or something…”

Michael finally agreed. 

“And we’d better stay outside the third-floor corridor,” Harry told Draco.

Draco wasn’t having it. “There’s no way I’m going to be part of this… Sorry, but I don’t want to die…” he drawled. 

Harry sighed with frustration, “if Voldemort comes back, you’re going to die.” 

“Not really, it’s you he wants…” Draco seemed to be getting more and more agitated. “Good luck with your stupid adventure, hope you don’t die too painfully...” With that, he marched away. 

Harry felt hurt. Draco didn’t care what would happen to Harry if Voldemort returned? Was that how much their friendship meant to him? 

Michael looked just as upset as Harry felt.

“I guess it’s just you and me,” Harry sighed. “I’d understand if you don’t want to do this either.” 

“I’m with you, Harry,” Michael muttered, and gave him one of his rare, warm smiles. 

“Let’s go…”

But the plan didn’t work. No sooner had he reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again, and this time, she lost her temper. “I suppose you think you’re harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!” she stormed. “Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you’ve come anywhere near here again, I’ll take another fifty points from Slytherin!” 

Harry went back to the common room, dejected. At least Michael was on Snape’s tail. 

Just then, Slytherin common room door swung open and Michael came in. 

“I’m sorry....” he looked just as dejected as Harry. “Professor Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Professor Flitwick, and Professor Snape went to get him, and I’ve only just got away. I don’t know where he went.” 

“Well, that’s it then, isn’t it?” Harry said. 

Michael stared at him. His face was pale, and his eyes were glittering. 

“I’m going out of here tonight and I’m going to try and get to the Stone first.”

“What? You can’t…” Michael took his arm. “How will you, a first year, get past all these enchantments? Besides, if you get caught again you’re going to get expelled...” 

“SO WHAT?” Harry shouted. “Don’t you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort’s coming back! Haven’t you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won’t be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He’ll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn’t matter anymore, can’t you see? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I’ll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there. It’s only dying a bit later than I would have done, because I’m never going over to the Dark Side! I’m going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?”

There was a small moment of silence. 

“You’re right, Harry,” said Michael in a small voice. 

“I’ll use the Invisibility Cloak,” said Harry. “It’s just lucky I got it back.”

“But will it cover all three of us?” A voice suddenly came from the top of the staircase. It was Draco. 

Harry’s eyes widened. “B- but… You guys… don’t have to come…” 

“Shut up, Harry,” Draco said, rather harshly, “I think I rather get expelled then let my best friends die…”

Michael smiled a bit. Harry’s spirits lifted slightly. He felt like… if it was all three of them, they could possibly stand a chance. 

After dinner the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered them; none of the Slytherins had anything to say to Harry any more, after all. This was the first night he hadn’t been upset by it. 

Michael was skimming through all his notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try and break. 

Harry and Draco didn’t talk much. Both of them were thinking about what they were about to do. Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed. 

“Better get the Cloak,” Harry muttered, as Josh finally left, though he didn’t look like he would be falling asleep any time soon. 

Harry ran downstairs to their dark dormitory. He pulled out the Cloak and then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy, he didn’t feel much like singing. 

He ran back down to the common room. “We’d better put the Cloak on here, and make sure it covers all three of us.... if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own…” 

“What are you doing?” 

It was Pansy Parkinson. 

“None of your goddamn business,” Draco snarled. 

“You’re sneaking out again? Want to lose Slytherin even more points, Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry…” muttered Michael timidly. 

Harry looked over, confused, just as the red haired boy stepped forward and said, “Petrificus Totalus.” 

Parkinson’s arms snapped to her sides. Her legs sprang together. Her whole body rigid, she swayed where she stood and then fell on her back, stiff as a board. “Sorry…” Michael added once more, as Draco let out a surprised laugh. “Wow, Munroe… didn’t know you had it in you…” he sniggered as they passed Parkinson, and made their way out of the Slytherin door. 

In their nervous state, every statue’s shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them. At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs Norris skulking near the top. 

“Let’s kick her down the stairs,” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear, but Harry shook his head. 

As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs Norris turned her lamp-like eyes on them, but didn’t do anything. They didn’t meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. 

Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip. 

“Who’s there?” he said suddenly as they climbed towards him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. “Know you’re there, even if I can’t see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?” He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them. “Should call Filch, I should, if something’s a-creeping around unseen.” 

Harry had a sudden idea. “Peeves,” he said, in a hoarse whisper, “the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible.” 

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs. “So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr Baron, sir,” he said greasily. “My mistake, my mistake… I didn’t see you... of course I didn’t, you’re invisible... forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir.” 

“I have business here, Peeves,” croaked Harry. “Stay away from this place tonight.” 

“I will, sir, I most certainly will,” said Peeves, rising up in the air again. “Hope your business goes well, Baron, I’ll not bother you.” And he scooted off. 

“My god that was clever,” Draco sneered with surprise, and Michael nodded in agreement.

A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor... and the door was already ajar. “Well, there you are,” Harry said quietly. “Snape’s already got past Fluffy.” Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of them what was facing them. Underneath the Cloak, Harry turned to the other two. “If you want to go back, I won’t blame you,” he said. “You can take the Cloak, I won’t need it now.” 

“Yeah, I’m going back…” said Draco. Michael looked at him. ‘I’m only joking...Of course we’re coming.”

Harry pushed the door open. As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog’s noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn’t see them. 

Draco swallowed, trying his best not to go into panic. They were all terrified, but knew they had to do what they had to do. 

“What’s that at its feet?” Draco muttered. 

“Looks like a harp,” whispered Michael. “Professor Snape must have left it there.”

“It must wake up the moment you stop playing,” said Harry. “Well, here goes…” He put Hagrid’s flute to his lips and blew. It wasn’t really a tune, but from the first note the beast’s eyes began to droop. Harry hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog’s growls ceased, it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep. 

They slipped out of the Cloak and crept towards the trapdoor. They could feel the dog’s hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads. 

“I think we’ll be able to pull the door open,” whispered Michael, peering over the dog’s back. “Want to go first, Draco?” 

“No, I don’t!” 

“Okay…” Michael said nervously and stepped carefully over the dog’s legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open. 

“What do you see?” Draco hissed. 

“Nothing... just black... there’s no ladder or rope. We’ll have to jump.”

“Oh, forget that…” Draco looked away. 

Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Draco to get his attention and pointed at himself. 

“You want to go first?” said Draco. Harry nodded. “There’s no way I’m playing that thing.”

Michael got up and took the flute from Harry. When he stopped, Fluffy started to move and wake up. Michael quickly resumed and the dog fell asleep again. 

Harry went up to the trap door, and looked inside. 

“What if there are no traps, and whoever’s dumb enough to go after the stone will jump in and break their neck,” Draco said. 

Harry swallowed nervously. “I.. I’ll go first and if I survive I’ll call for you both to come down, okay.” 

Draco nodded. Harry could tell he was trying to hold himself together. 

“I’ll see you in a bit… I hope…” 

Michael felt like he was going to cry. But he kept on playing. 

“If I don’t respond, find something to lower yourself down with…”

Draco didn’t say a word, as Harry took a big breath and leaped inside. 

Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and... FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around for his glasses, finding them quickly and putting them back on. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant. 

“It’s okay!” he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp which was the open trapdoor. “It’s a soft landing, you can jump!”

“I.. I don’t know if I can do this…” Draco suddenly spoke. “I- is it really far down? Did it hurt?” 

Michael knew they didn’t have much time. Still producing a tune with Harry’s flute, he shoved Draco in with his leg and closed his eyes, plummeting down after him. 

Draco was definitely the one who screamed the loudest on the way down. When he landed on the plant, he was surprised. “Oh, okay. It didn’t hurt. Don’t know why Michael was so worried about that…”

Harry shook his head, as Michael gave him back his flute. Loud barks could be heard from the trap door, but all three of them were now safe inside. 

“I was really worried for a second,” Michael admitted. “I thought you might die…” 

Harry shrugged, “well, we’re alive… so let’s find a way out of here…” 

They hadn’t realized until now that the plant was twisting around them, pinning them down in place with its vines. 

Michael tried to pull himself out but it was no use, and soon the other two boys were panicking and trying their best to break free of the tentacle-like hold of the plant. 

The more that they struggled though, the more that the plant tightened around them. 

“Stop moving…” Michael said, “It grabs tighter when you move… just try to relax” he could have sworn he heard of this plant before when revising for Herbology. He strained his mind. “What’s it called…”

“Doesn’t matter what it’s called! It’s going to eat us!” Draco showed no sign of relaxing. He was going into full panic mode. “PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP IF YOU CAN HEAAAR USSS!” he yelled. 

Harry was trying not to move, but Draco’s panic was rubbing off on him too. 

“Devil Snare… that’s it… I remember now… I think there was an illustration next to the text…” 

“Oh my god who cares! It’s eating me… it’s eating me…” Draco let out choked exasperated gasps. 

“The witch was holding up a wand, shooting light through it. That’s it…” Michael looked around for his wand, but it was hard when whenever he moved the vines would grab him. 

“It’s choking me… It’s killing me… It’s choking…” Draco flailed. 

Harry looked at Michael “What are you doing?” The Snare was wrapping around his neck now, and he held onto it, trying to pry it off. “Hurry up we’re both d- dying…” 

Michael managed to grasp his wand and use the same flames he used on Snape during Quidditch, and as soon as the flames flooded the room, the Snare released the three of them, and withered away. 

The two of them lay there, choking for several seconds, as Michael took big breaths of relief. 

Draco got up first, followed by the other two. 

“How come they didn’t strangle you?” Harry asked Michael. 

“He was relaxing apparently! Whilst we were dying!” Draco exclaimed, dusting his robes off. “Where to now?”

“This way,” said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway which was the only way on. All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downwards and Harry was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards’ bank. If they met a dragon, a fully grown dragon… Norbert had been bad enough... 

“Just wait till my father hears about how dangerous this bloody school is... Couldn’t hide that bloody stone anywhere else,” Draco complained. 

“Shh…” Michael stopped. “Can you hear that?” 

“What?” Draco stopped. 

Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead. 

“Do you think it’s a werewolf?” Draco whispered.

“I don’t know... sounds like wings to me.” 

“Why did you think it was a werewolf?” Harry muttered. Did he have some sort of phobia? 

“There’s light ahead… I can see something moving.” Michael said quietly. 

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy, wooden door. 

“Is this it?” Draco scoffed, “whichever professor thought of this stupid trap should be fired…” 

“Wait…” Harry muttered. “What if they turn vicious and attack you if you try to get to the door?” 

“Bet you wish you didn’t leave the invisibility cloak behind now…” Draco said.

“What do we do?” Michael looked unsure. 

“There’s only one thing for it. I’ll have to run…” 

Harry covered his face with his arms as best he could, and sprinted across the chamber towards the door. 

Nothing happened. The birds seemed to ignore him and flutter about as they had before. 

“Still stand by what I said, then…” Draco smirked and walked towards the door casually, followed by Michael, who was looking around. 

Harry pulled the handle on the door, but it wouldn’t budge open. They even tried Alohomora, but it didn’t work. 

“Oh, great… If only Crabbe and Goyle were here. I bet they could kick it open.” 

“I doubt it. If they protected this door from Alohomora, I’m sure they’d protect it from someone trying to use brute force too,” Harry told Draco. 

“Hey, guys…” Michael said, looking up. “I don’t think they’re birds.” 

Draco looked up, squinting from the light. They looked closely, till finally Draco said, “they kind of look like keys.” 

“That’s right,” Harry said, “I bet one of those keys is for the lock in the door,” he looked closer at the door knob. “I bet it’s silver like the handle. Old fashioned too.” 

But there seemed to be hundreds of them, fluttering about the ceiling. 

“Okay I take it back…” Draco muttered “what are we going to do?” 

“Broomsticks,” Michael pointed suddenly, drawing their attention in the corner of the chamber. 

They all got themselves a broom and jumped on. As soon as they touched them, the keys started flying around like darts with maddening speed. 

“Just how are we going to find it when they’ve gone berserk,” Draco spewed. 

Michael was struggling to kick off the ground, but managed to fly after Draco and Harry at last, whom were circling around the room with ease. 

The red haired boy almost flipped upside down. 

Draco couldn’t hold back a snigger.

Harry was too busy squinting, looking around for their key. But being the youngest seeker in a century, it didn’t take him long to spot what would have taken longer for others. 

After a minute’s weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole. 

“That one!” he called to the others. “That big one.... there... no, there.... with bright blue wings... the feathers are all crumpled on one side.” 

Michael went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling and nearly fell off his broom. 

“We’ve got to close in on it!” Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. “Draco, you come at it from above, Michael, stay below and stop it going down... and I’ll try and catch it. Right, NOW!” 

Draco dived, Michael whirled upwards, the key dodged them both and Harry streaked after it; it sped towards the wall, Harry leant forward and with a nasty crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. 

They landed quickly and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned. It worked. 

The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

“We did it… we actually did it…” Draco looked amazed. “Did you see me fly? I’m definitely going to make it at Quidditch next year…” 

Michael nodded, a little pale. He must have felt sick from all the twirling. 

“Lets go…” Harry opened the door, and they proceeded through. 

The next chamber was so dark they couldn’t see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight. They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. The three of them shivered slightly; the towering white chessmen had no faces. 

“Now what do we do?” Harry whispered. 

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Draco. “We’ve got to play.” 

Behind the white pieces they could see another door. 

“How?” said Harry nervously. 

“I think,” said Michael, “we’re going to have to be chess pieces.” 

He walked up to a black queen and put his hand out to touch her side. At once, the stone sprang to life. The chess piece then proceeded to remove itself from the board. 

“Do we… have to join you to get across?” Draco muttered. 

The queen piece nodded from the side. 

Harry looked at Michael, “You’ve learned a lot about chess from Ron… we never won a game against you once. I think you should take the lead…” 

Michael looked around the board. “Draco… take up the castle, and Harry, the bishop.” 

The two boys nodded. 

The game begun. 

The seriousness of this hadn’t hit them until Michael took out a white pawn. 

The knight took his sword, and pierced the opposing piece, before dragging it off the board. 

Draco’s face lost it’s colour. 

White pieces showed no mercy. They took out just as much black pieces as they took out white. 

Both Draco and Harry cheered when Michael took out the white Queen, but the game wasn’t over yet. 

Each of them made their moves too, and when they checked an opponent, they walked off the board. 

Soon, there were very few pieces left on each side. Michael was taking a while to think.

Harry looked over at him, and noticed that he had gone white as the chess pieces opposite him. 

“Are you okay?” Draco asked with genuine concern. 

Michael nodded and looked at them. “I… there’s a good chance that I will probably die…” 

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened. 

“You think this is some kind of funny joke?” Draco enquired, “tell us what to do next…” 

“The only way to check the white king is to set it up. The only way we can do this is if I let it take me out. Then Harry will be open to make his move… and well… check mate.” 

“There must be another way, though… There has to be,” Harry mumbled quickly.

Michael gave him a small smile, “It’s okay, Harry. I’m happy that I get to do something good, and die knowing that I did everything I could to save you, and everyone else…” he looked down. “My brother made me believe that I was evil, now that I think about it, he used it against me. He made me believe that only he was capable of loving me, and that no one else would ever see me for anything other than a monster.” 

Harry didn’t know what to say… He looked closer. Was he… crying? 

“I never had friends like you before… You made me feel like I was worthy just as I am, that I didn’t have to change and be perfect. Thank you, so much, Harry… Draco,” he glanced at them individually. “Please find the stone… and don’t let Professor Snape win.” 

“Michael don’t,” Harry clenched his fists, watching him as he made his way towards the white king. 

Draco couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t speak. He felt like his limbs were frozen in place. 

The white king turned, and brought out its long sceptre. Michael closed his eyes, and braced himself. The King swung it round, and hit him so hard, he fell into the middle of the board, out cold. 

Harry tried to keep his composure. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, but spoke those next two words anyway. “Check mate.” 

The King dropped its sceptre, and they knew that they had won. But they weren’t celebrating. 

Draco lowered down to the floor, sitting, transfixed, in a state of shock. 

Harry on the other hand, ran over to Michael’s body, turning him over and breathing with panic. “Please… please say you’re not dead…” he checked his pulse like he saw people doing it in movies, and found that there was something there. 

“Draco,” Harry called. “He’s alright… he’s just passed out… He’s alright…” 

Draco closed his eyes and fell back on the chess board, staring up at the ceiling. He was trying to get over the shock of it all. What had he gotten himself into?

“Draco,” Harry said once more. “We should keep going… I think he’s going to be fine…” he was still panting a little. “Lets go…” 

Draco finally got up, and walked over to Harry. He was still pale and rather slow, but he was functioning at least. He looked down at their friend, who was lying on his side, his long red hair spread all around him. 

“It kind of looks like blood, don’t you think,” he told Harry, “Don’t know why he doesn’t cut it off.” 

With that Draco walked off towards the door. Harry knew he was hiding it, he was just as distraught as he was. But what choice did they have. They had to keep going. 

“All right?” Harry whispered. 

“Go on,” Draco urged. 

Harry pushed the door open. A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their robes up over their noses.

“That’s disgusting…” Draco wheezed. 

Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head. 

“I’m glad we didn’t have to fight that one,” Harry whispered, as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. 

“Come on, I can’t breathe…” Draco pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next… but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line. 

“So if the teachers made those traps, who d’you reckon did what?”

“The Devil Snare belonged to Professor Sprouts… Professor Flitwick put charms on those keys and Professor McGonagall transfigured those chess pieces,” Harry reckoned. 

Draco looked at the bottles in front of them as they approached them. “And this would be Professor Snape’s.” 

Harry nodded. “So the troll belonged to Quirrell?” Harry looked confused. “Wasn’t he petrified of them?” 

“Maybe that’s why he put it there, thought it was much more dangerous than it actually is,” Draco grinned. “So what do we do?” 

They stepped over the threshold and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn’t ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onwards. They were trapped. 

“Look!” Draco seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. 

Harry looked over his shoulder to read it: 

“Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, 

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find, 

One among us seven will let you move ahead, 

Another will transport the drinker back instead, 

Two among our number hold only nettle wine, 

Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line. 

Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore, 

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: 

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide 

You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side; 

Second, different are those who stand at either end, 

But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend; 

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, 

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; 

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right 

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.”

“They’re potions,” Harry whispered, looking at Draco. “You’re good at potions, what do you think of this?” 

This whole riddle just shambled his brain. 

Draco threw the parchment to the side, and approached the potions. “Forget the riddle... I’ve been taking extra lessons with Professor Snape, he taught me once how to tell the difference between different types of potions according to their smell.” 

“He did?” Harry looked confused. “If this was the trap he made, why would he teach you how to do that?” 

Draco shrugged. “Didn’t think I’d be the type to go and save the day.” 

He strutted over to the farthest bottle, and began to smell each one. Harry watched, as he was repulsed by some, and nodded at others. Finally, he presented Harry with the smallest bottle. “This one will take us through the black fire to the stone.” 

Harry took it. There was hardly enough in it for one to swallow, let alone the both of them. 

“I think only one of us can get through… there’s not enough.” 

Draco nodded. He picked up a rounded bottle that he was repulsed at after smelling it. “This will get us out.” 

“You take half,” Harry said, “and leave the rest so I can go back through after I get the stone.” 

Draco didn’t complain. He nodded. “Alright…” 

“Get Michael out of here and take him to Madam Pomfrey, then write a letter to Dumbledore as soon as you can, just in case I don’t make it.” 

“Sure,” Draco said. He let out a sigh, “Harry… take care, alright. Don’t go dying stupidly, or I’ll kill you…” he drank half the potion, his face contorting from the taste. “See you around,” he said casually, placing the bottle down, and looking back at him once more before passing back through the purple flames. 

Harry took a deep breath, and drank the tiny bit of potion that was left in the small vial. 

He felt perfectly fine, so Draco was right. Bravely, he stepped through the black fire, and got out safely on the other side. But what he saw on the other side shocked him. 

It wasn’t Snape… It wasn’t Voldemort…


	13. The Man with Two Faces

It was Quirrell. 

“You!” gasped Harry. 

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn’t twitching at all. “Me,” he said calmly, “I wondered whether I’d be meeting you here, Potter.” 

“But I thought... Snape…” 

“Severus?” Quirrell laughed and it wasn’t his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. “Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn’t he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor ststuttering P-Professor Quirrell?” 

Harry couldn’t take it in. This couldn’t be true, it couldn’t. 

“But Snape tried to kill me!” 

“No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Mr Munroe accidentally knocked me over as he rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. He broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I’d have got you off that broom. I’d have managed it before then if Snape hadn’t been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you.” 

“Snape was trying to save me?” 

“Of course,” said Quirrell coolly. “Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn’t do it again. Funny, really... he needn’t have bothered. I couldn’t do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to have Slytherin win, he did make himself unpopular... and what a waste of time, when after all that, I’m going to kill you tonight.” Quirrell snapped his fingers. 

Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry. 

“You’re too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school at Halloween like that, for all I knew you’d seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone.” 

“You let the troll in…” 

“Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls! you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off... and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn’t even manage to bite Snape’s leg off properly… Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.” It was only then that Harry realised what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised. 

“This mirror is the key to finding the Stone,” Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. “Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this ... but he’s in London ... I’ll be far away by the time he gets back …” 

All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him concentrating on the Mirror. 

“I saw you and Snape in the Forest-” he blurted out. 

“Yes,” said Quirrell idly, walking around the Mirror to look at the back. “He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I’d got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me, as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side…” Quirrell came back out from behind the Mirror and stared hungrily into it. “I see the Stone ... I’m presenting it to my master... but where is it?” 

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn’t give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the Mirror. 

“But Snape always seemed to hate me so much.” 

“Oh, he does,” said Quirrell casually, “heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn’t you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead.” 

“But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing... I thought Snape was threatening you …” 

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell’s face. “Sometimes,” he said, “I find it hard to follow my master’s instructions. He is a great wizard and I am weak…” 

“You mean he was there in the classroom with you?” Harry gasped. 

“He is with me wherever I go,” said Quirrell quietly. “I met him when I travelled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me.” Quirrell shivered suddenly. “He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…” Quirrell’s voice tailed away. 

Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon Alley. How could he have been so stupid? He’d seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron. 

Quirrell cursed under his breath. “I don’t understand... is the Stone inside the Mirror? Should I break it?” 

Harry’s mind was racing. ‘What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment,’ he thought, ‘is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the Mirror, I should see myself finding it… which means I’ll see where it’s hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realising what I’m up to?’ 

He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. 

Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself. “What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!” 

And to Harry’s horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself. “Use the boy... Use the boy…” 

Quirrell rounded on Harry. “Yes... Potter... come here.” He clapped his hands once and the ropes binding Harry fell off. 

Harry got slowly to his feet. “Come here,” Quirrell repeated. “Look in the Mirror and tell me what you see.” 

Harry walked towards him. ‘I must lie,’ he thought desperately. ‘I must look and lie about what I see, that’s all.’ 

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell’s turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the Mirror and opened them again. 

He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket... and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow, incredibly, he’d got the Stone. 

“Well?” said Quirrell impatiently. “What do you see?” 

Harry screwed up his courage. “I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore,” he invented. “I – I’ve won the House Cup for Slytherin.” 

Quirrell cursed again. “Get out of the way,” he said. 

As Harry moved aside he felt the Philosopher’s Stone against his leg. 

Dare he make a break for it? But he hadn’t walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn’t moving his lips. ‘“He lies... He lies…” 

“Potter, come back here!” Quirrell shouted. “Tell me the truth! What did you just see?” The high voice spoke again. 

“Let me speak to him... face to face…” 

“Master, you are not strong enough!” 

“I have strength enough... for this…” 

Harry felt as if Devil’s Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn’t move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell’s head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot. Harry would have screamed, but he couldn’t make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell’s head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake. 

“Harry Potter…” it whispered. 

Harry tried to take a step backwards but his legs wouldn’t move. 

“See what I have become?” the face said. “Mere shadow and vapour ... I have form only when I can share another’s body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks ... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the Forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket?”

So he knew.

The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry’s legs. He stumbled backwards. 

“Don’t be a fool,” snarled the face. “Better save your own life and join me. You’re a Slytherin after all, you’re destined to be great... or you can meet the same end as your parents... They died begging me for mercy…” 

“LIAR!” Harry shouted suddenly. 

Quirrell was walking backwards at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling. “How touching …” it hissed. “I always value resilience... Yes, boy, your parents were brave and resilient... I killed your father first and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn’t have died... she was trying to protect you... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain.” 

“NEVER!” Harry sprang towards the flame door, but Voldemort screamed, “SEIZE HIM!” 

And, next second, Harry felt Quirrell’s hand close on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry’s scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. 

The pain in his head lessened. He looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers; they were blistering before his eyes. 

“Seize him! SEIZE HIM!” shrieked Voldemort again and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet, landing on top of him, both hands around Harry’s neck. Harry’s scar was almost blinding him with pain, yet he could see Quirrell howling in agony. 

“Master, I cannot hold him... my hands... my hands!” And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms. 

Harry could see they looked burnt, raw, red and shiny. 

“Then kill him, fool, and be done!” screeched Voldemort. 

Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell’s face.

“AAAARGH!” Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn’t touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain. His only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him doing a curse. Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm and hung on as tight as he could. 

Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off. The pain in Harry’s head was building... he couldn’t see... he could only hear Quirrell’s terrible shrieks and Voldemort’s yells of “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!” and other voices, maybe in Harry’s own head, crying, “Harry! Harry!” 

He felt Quirrell’s arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down... down... down... 

* * *

Something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! He tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy. He blinked. It wasn’t the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. 

How strange. He blinked again. 

The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above him. 

“Good afternoon, Harry,” said Dumbledore. 

Harry stared at him. Then he remembered. “Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He’s got the Stone! Sir, quick…” 

“Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times,” said Dumbledore. “Quirrell does not have the Stone.” 

“Then who does? Sir, I-” 

“Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.” 

Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realised he must be in the hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets and next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half the sweet-shop. 

“Tokens from your friends and admirers,” said Dumbledore, beaming. “What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. Even some fellow Gryffindor students, Weasleys, brought you a bunch of sweets. It is indeed unusual to see heroism from a Slytherin,” he said, not in a mean way, he was more surprised by this than anything.

“How long have I been in here?” 

“Three days. Mr Munroe and Mr Malfoy will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried, even if young Draco tried not to show it.” 

“But sir, the Stone…” 

“I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say.” 

“You got there? You got Draco’s owl?” 

“We must have crossed in mid-air. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you.” 

“It was you.” 

“I feared I might be too late.” 

“You nearly were, I couldn’t have kept him off the Stone much longer.” 

“Not the Stone, boy, you… the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed.” 

“Destroyed?” said Harry blankly. “But your friend... Nicolas Flamel…” 

“Oh, you know about Nicolas?” said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. “You did do the thing properly, didn’t you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat and agreed it’s all for the best.” 

“But that means he will die, won’t he?” 

“He and his wife have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die.” 

Harry looked down, unsure what to say.

“To one as young as you, I’m sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all... the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things which are worst for them.” 

Harry lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling. 

“Sir?” said Harry. “I’ve been thinking... Sir… even if the Stone’s gone, Vol- ...I mean, You-Know-Who…” 

“Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.” 

“Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort’s going to try other ways of coming back, isn’t he? I mean, he hasn’t gone, has he?” 

“No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share... not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time, and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power.” 

Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, “Sir, there are some other things I’d like to know, if you can tell me ... things I want to know the truth about …” 

“The truth.” Dumbledore sighed. “It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you’ll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie.” 

“Well ... Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?” 

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time. “Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day... put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older... I know you hate to hear this... when you are ready, you will know.” 

And Harry knew it would be no good to argue. “But why couldn’t Quirrell touch me?” 

“Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn’t realise that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection for ever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.”

Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found his voice again, Harry said, “And the Invisibility Cloak... do you know who sent it to me? And the Nimbus 2000?” 

“Ah, your father happened to leave it in my possession and I thought you might like it.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Useful things... your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here. The Nimbus 2000, on the other hand, was sent to you by Professor Snape. He figured you’d have more luck catching the snitch and winning for Slytherin,” 

“He did?” Harry looked surprised, “art first I thought he might have sent it to kill me…”

At that, Dumbledore gave a bit of a laugh. 

“Talking about Professor Snape, there’s something else…” 

“Fire away.” 

“Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?” 

“Well, they did rather detest each other. In fact, your father liked to play pranks on him. I don’t think he was mean spirited at all, but I think Severus might have taken it rather personally. But then, your father did something Snape could never forgive.” 

“What?” 

“He saved his life.” 

“What?” 

“Yes…” said Dumbledore dreamily. “Funny, the way people’s minds work, isn’t it? Professor Snape couldn’t bear being in your father’s debt... I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father quits. Then he could go back to hating your father’s memory in peace...” 

Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he stopped. “And sir, there’s one more thing …” 

“Just the one?” 

“How did I get the Stone out of the Mirror?” 

“Ah, now, I’m glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that’s saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone, find it, but not use it... would be able to get it, otherwise they’d just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes... It’s funny, you also surprised me in many ways this year, Harry. When you were sorted into Slytherin, I couldn’t lie, I was a little worried that you would take the dark path Voldemort took. But you managed to surprise us all! Don’t listen to anyone who might tell you that being in Slytherin will automatically make you a bad person. Things change, and expectations shift. Hopefully we will see you use your ambition and resourcefulness and your cunning… to protect the innocent and stand against evil. I believe you could be very great one day. Just don’t let the darkness take you, like it took him... 

“Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavoured one, and since then I’m afraid I’ve rather lost my liking for them... but I think I’ll be safe with a nice toffee, don’t you?” He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, “Alas! Earwax!”

Madam Pomfrey, the matron, was a nice woman, but very strict. 

“Just five minutes,” Harry pleaded. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“You let Professor Dumbledore in…” 

“Well, of course, that was the Headmaster, quite different. You need rest.” 

“I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey…” 

“Oh, very well,” she said. “But five minutes only.”

And she let Draco and Michael in. Though poor Crabbe and Goyle, whom seemed to be loyal to Draco again, had to wait at the door, since the matron didn’t want there to be a big crowd. 

“Harry,” Michael approached him, and hugged him gently. “Are you alright?” 

Harry was a little surprised. Michael didn’t ever seem like the type to like human contact. 

“I’m okay, I promise,” he smiled. “How are you? Are you alright? We were so worried about you back there… I’m so glad you’re alive”

“We’re glad you’re alive, Harry,” Draco smiled. “Michael wouldn’t stop worrying about you. It was getting rather annoying… Also you missed my birthday… father sent me a letter that they will give me my present when I come back home… I hope it’s a new broom.” 

Harry’s eyes widened, “I’m sorry… Happy Birthday,” he said quickly.

“It’s fine… Anyway what happened? Tell us everything you can remember.” 

And so, Harry told them what happened in the final chamber, and how he got the stone, and stood against Quirrell, how his mother’s love protected him, and how Dumbledore rescued him. 

The two sat there and listened for quite a while. They realized that Madam Pomfrey was kind enough to let them stay over the five minutes that was initially promised. 

“So Flamel actually agreed to dying? What an idiot…” Draco smirked. Though both of his friends knew by now not to take his insults so literally. 

“What about you two, how did you manage to get out?”

Draco began, “it’s lucky Michael was so light, we managed to get out using some of the devil snare vines and magic. You should have seen me, I was a real hero,” he bragged. “Anyways, you could have imagined my shock when Professor Snape appeared. At first he was going to give us detention but then he noticed Michael was out cold. He woke up Madam Pomfrey and we took him to the hospital wing. I told him everything that happened and he wrote to Professor Dumbledore at once.” 

“Wow,” Harry muttered. “I just… want to thank you… both of you. I couldn’t have done it without you. I know it was probably dumb to take matters in our own hands…”

“We had to,” Michael shrugged. “And we did it, and we’re alive. And we’re not expelled.” 

“Do you think Professor Dumbledore set you up for it?” Draco suddenly said. “He sent you that invisibility cloak, he must have known… he’s a genius after all…”

“Why would Professor Dumbledore put Harry in such a dangerous situation?” 

Harry smiled a little, “he’s a funny man, Dumbledore. Has his own way of doing things… and I think he was testing me. He said he was worried about me being in Slytherin, and that I exceeded his expectations… I proved to him that I was on the side of good after all…” 

“Slytherin gets such a bad reputation,” Michael sighed a little. 

“We’ve proved to the whole school now that we deserve to be treated with respect,” Draco added.

Harry nodded. 

“You’ve got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Hufflepuff won. Can you imagine? You missed the last Quidditch match, we were beaten by them. BY HUFFLEPUFFS… CAN YOU IMAGINE? HUFFLEPUFFS!” Draco shouted in outrage.

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over. “You’ve had nearly thirty minutes, and now you’re causing havoc! OUT!” she said firmly. 

* * *

After a good night’s sleep, Harry felt nearly back to normal. 

“I want to go to the feast,” he told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened his many sweet-boxes. “I can, can’t I?” 

“Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go,” she said sniffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn’t realise how risky feasts could be. “And you have another visitor.” 

“Oh good,” said Harry. “Who is it?” 

Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down next to Harry, took one look at him and burst into tears. “It’s- all- my- ruddy- fault!” he sobbed, his face in his hands. “I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn’t know an’ I told him! Yeh could’ve died! All fer a dragon egg! I’ll never drink again! I should be chucked out an’ made ter live as a Muggle!” 

“Hagrid!” said Harry, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. “Hagrid, he’d have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we’re talking about, he’d have found out even if you hadn’t told him.” 

“Yeh could’ve died!” sobbed Hagrid. “An’ don’ say the name!” 

“VOLDEMORT!” Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped crying. “I’ve met him and I’m calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it’s gone, he can’t use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I’ve got loads…” 

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, “That reminds me. I’ve got yeh a present.” 

“It’s not a stoat sandwich, is it?” said Harry anxiously and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle. “Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. ’Course, he shoulda sacked me instead... anyway, got yeh this …” 

It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father. They looked exactly like they did in the Mirror of Erised. 

“Sent owls off ter all yer parents’ old school friends, askin’ fer photos ... Knew yeh didn’ have any ... D’yeh like it?” 

Harry couldn’t speak, but Hagrid understood. 

* * *

Harry made his way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. He had been held up by Madam Pomfrey’s fussing-about, insisting on giving him one last check-up, so the Great Hall was already full. 

It was decked out in the Hufflepuff colours of yellow and black to celebrate their winning the House Cup. A huge banner showing the Hufflepuff badger covered the wall behind the High Table. 

When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Draco and Michael at the Slytherin table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him. 

“This place looks like a nursery,” Draco complained. 

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away. 

“Another year gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts... Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Slytherin, with three hundred and thirteen points; in third, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and fifty-two; Gryffindor have four hundred and twenty-six and Hufflepuff, four hundred and seventy-two.” 

Cheering erupted from the Hufflepuff table, and Slytherins collectively groaned in anguish. “It’s all Potter’s fault,” Pansy yelled. 

“Alright, alright, well done, Hufflepuff,” said Dumbledore. “However, recent events must be taken into account.” 

The room went very still. The Hufflepuffs’ smiles faded a little. 

“Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes… First... to Mr Michael Munroe…” Michael’s eyes widened, as he felt the whole Slytherin table look his way. 

“...for the courageous sacrifice, and brilliant strategy, I award Slytherin house fifty points.” 

Slytherin’s cheers and stomps nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Cedric Munroe could be heard telling the others, “My little brother, you know! My lovely little brother! Got past McGonagall’s giant chess set!” he waved his arms around, before bowing as if it was he receiving the praise. 

At last there was silence again. “Second... to Mr Draco Malfoy... for the use of Potion mastery, I award Slytherin house fifty points.”

Draco at first was shocked, but Harry knew that they wouldn’t hear the end of this after it was over. Slytherin house was now a storm of celebration... they were a hundred points up. 

“Third... to Mr Harry Potter…” said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. “...for pure nerve and outstanding resilience, I award Slytherin house sixty points.” 

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Slytherin now had four hundred and seventy-three points... One mere point above Hufflepuff.

They had won the House Cup! Everyone was grabbing the three boys in choke-holds and shaking them aggressively, whilst chanting their last names. 

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent. “There’s some who fight through war heroically, and then there’s others who influence the battle. That’s why… Ten points will be awarded to Ronald Weasley…” 

Gryffindor house cheered, as Ron went a bright shade of purple. 

“...The best player of chess Hogwarts has ever seen. If there was no friendship between Slytherin and Gryffindor, we might have not been able to make it. He taught his friend everything he knew despite their differences, and because of that, we won the war against evil. Well done.” 

Ron’s friends patted him on the back. It wasn’t enough to beat Hufflepuff or Slytherin, but they were proud of him anyway. 

Michael had a small smile, as he looked his way. It was true. If it wasn’t for Ron, he wouldn’t be able to win that chess match. 

“The Slytherin house,” Dumbledore began, silencing the hall, “has been looked down upon for many centuries, for good reason too. It has produced most of the dark witches and wizards we see today. But don’t let that define you. You can be on the side of good, and stand up against evil, no matter which house you’re part of. We all could use the strengths of Slytherin house... Let this be a lesson to all of you, and utilize each other’s strengths, build friendships and treat each other as equals, regardless of what you are… And with that...

“Slytherin wins the house cup!” 

These by far were the loudest cheers. For the first time ever, the other houses were cheering with them. “POTTER! POTTER! POTTER!” Shouted Slytherins in sync. 

Even the Weasleys joined in. 

“MUNROE MUNROE MUNROE!” Michael hid his face in his arms. 

“MALFOY MALFOY MALFOY!” For Draco, it was only the Slytherins. But it didn’t bother him. He felt like he was on top of the world. 

Professor Snape looked well pleased. The corners of his lips were raised, as he clapped quickly. He caught Harry’s eye and Harry knew at once that Snape’s feelings towards him hadn’t changed one jot. This didn’t worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts. 

It was the best evening of Harry’s life, better than winning at Quidditch or Christmas or knocking out mountain trolls ... he would never, ever forget tonight. 

* * *

Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, him, Draco and Michael all passed. Draco even almost came out on top in Slytherin house, beaten only by no other than Pansy Parkinson. Crabbe and Goyle barely scraped by, which surprised even Draco. Josh held up his results, looking baffled. “I actually did it, mother of Jesus… This is why sleep is for losers” 

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays, Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King’s Cross Station. It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn’t attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles. 

“I’ll ask father if you could come and stay at our mansion this summer,” said Draco, “both of you... I’ll send you an owl.” 

“Thanks,” said Harry. “I’ll need something to look forward to.” 

People jostled them as they moved forwards towards the gateway back to the Muggle world.

Some of them called: “Bye, Harry!” 

“See you, Potter!” 

“Still famous,” smiled Michael. 

“Not where I’m going, I promise you,” said Harry. 

He, Draco and Michael passed through the gateway together. 

“There he is, Mum, there he is, look!” It was a small, red haired girl, probably Ron’s younger sister, but she wasn’t pointing at Ron, who came out behind the three boys. 

“Harry Potter!” she squealed. “Look, Mum! I can see-” 

“Be quiet, Ginny, and it’s rude to point.” Mrs Weasley warned. 

“Let’s go little brother, time to go home!” came a singing voice behind them. It was Cedric Munroe. Michael looked like he really didn’t want to go. The older Munroe put his arm around his neck and practically dragged him along, talking about something importantly, as Michael looked back at Draco and Harry and waved awkwardly.

“Draco,” came a cold, drawling voice from their left. Harry turned to see Mr Malfoy, Draco’s father, staring coolly at them. Draco’s mother was also there. She looked much kinder, Harry thought, than Mr Malfoy did. “Come along now, Draco,” she said, reaching out her hand towards him. “You’ll be excited to see what I got you.” 

Draco smiled, he looked at Harry, “see you around… hopefully this summer.” 

And with that, he and his parents left.

“Ready, are you?” A sudden voice permeated Harry’s ears. It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still moustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. 

Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry. 

“Hurry up, boy, we haven’t got all day.” He walked away. Though they didn’t see the grin that was on Harry’s face. They had no idea Harry wasn’t allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts. He was going to have fun with Dudley this summer. 

\-- Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets (Slytherin Edition) coming soon --


End file.
